


changing of the seasons

by StarKidMcFly



Category: The Book of Mormon - Ambiguous Fandom, The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Barista!Connor, F/M, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn, and they were ROOMMATES, author!arnold, elementary teacher!kevin, elementary teacher!nabulungi, eventual mcpriceley, roommate au, sadaka is done with kevin's shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-07-20 22:36:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 55,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16146980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarKidMcFly/pseuds/StarKidMcFly
Summary: New York City is expensive without a roommate. New York City with one? Well, that's a whole other level of taxing.





	1. September

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I know there are so many roommate AUs, and here's another one to add to that list! 
> 
> I've been working on this for a while (I've currently written about 30,000 words), and although this first chapter is subject to a rewrite in the future (I think I've changed my mind about some of the characterisations that I've written!), this has been such an enjoyable thing to work on alongside Life Lessons. I'm having so much fun writing it, particularly Sadaka's scenes, and I'm really excited to share it with you!
> 
> Each chapter should span a month, although a couple of them might be split in half :) 
> 
> Also a HUGE thanks to @youweretheocean who is honestly a godsend and has read through this fic despite BoM not being one of her main fandoms, and has listened to me ranting about this to my heart's content without even once telling me to shut up. This one's for you, bro. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

“A couple of house rules,” Kevin Price informs his new roommate before the redhead has even had a chance to get through the door. 

“Hello to you too,” is his reply, and Kevin doesn’t take notice of his attitude. It’s important he lays down the ground rules now before this boy gets too complacent and starts messing up his apartment. That’s what his mom had told him to do when he’d phoned her, and that’s what he fully intends on doing. It was Kevin’s apartment first, after all. 

“Shoes off at the door,” Kevin tells him, continuing as if the kid didn’t speak at all. “Communal areas need to be kept tidy - you can do whatever you want to your room, but mess up my kitchen and we’re going to have issues.” 

“I’m Connor McKinley.” The redhead is playing him at his own game of ignoring statements, and sticks his hand out to shake. Kevin looks at him as if he hadn’t quite noticed him before. (Which, to be completely fair, he hasn’t really. He’s been focused on laying down the law and seeming confident.)

Kevin looks at his outstretched hand but makes no move to shake it. “Kevin Price,” he tells him, before continuing, “I’d prefer if you kept to your room after ten, because I’m a teacher and I have to be up at five in the morning. If you have people over, make sure the no shoes rule doesn’t get ignored, either.” 

Connor drops his hand when he receives no shake and squints at Kevin. “And you’ve not found a roommate yet?” he asks in a faux-surprised voice. 

“No, actually,” Kevin replies. “Apparently I’m not to everyone’s tastes.” That’s something that the last guy who’d viewed his apartment had actually said to his face, which Kevin thinks is mightily unfair. He and Arnold got along just great when they lived together. It’s annoying that Arnold just  _ had  _ to fall in love with Nabulungi, and now his two closest friends are moving in together, and Kevin has to try and convince someone else that shoes are for outdoors and not for his carpet.

Like this new guy, who mock-gasps at his comment. “Well, that  _ is  _ shocking,” Connor says, then grins.  

Kevin frowns at him, folding his arms across his chest. Connor is bony-looking, with very sharp, angular features and a smattering of freckles across his face. His hair is red and looks like it’s desperately trying to curl in awkward directions, but its owner has just about managed to exercise some control over it. He’s also wearing the most deafening sweater Kevin thinks he’s ever seen, which makes no sense to him because it’s still quite hot out considering it’s only September. Kevin looks down at his Converse, notices how old and worn they look, and vows quickly to clear the bottom rung of the shoe rack so that they don’t touch any of his school shoes. 

Kevin knows just from looking at him that he is going to be messy. The thing is though that he is Nabulungi’s best friend, and Kevin has a healthy amount of fear for her, and as much as he enjoys having his apartment exactly how he wants it, he  _ needs  _ a roommate, both because it’s not financially viable for him to live alone, and because he struggles as soon as he’s left on his own with his thoughts. 

“Well,” says Connor after a moment, and he beams, “I literally don’t have any other choice, so I guess your roommate search is officially over.” He reaches down to pick up a small pink suitcase, and nods to Kevin.

Kevin looks pointedly at his shoes. Connor kicks them off (with no small show of rolling his eyes, Kevin notes, trying not to feel annoyed), picks them up, and steps across the threshold and into the apartment. 

Kevin runs through several more of his rules - how he keeps the coat pegs organised by season, how he likes the cupboards sorted by foodstuffs as opposed to by resident, things like that - and then moves onto the topic of bills. 

“What do you do, anyway?” he asks Connor, because he’s trying not to be judgmental, but from the state of those shoes, he thinks this guy might not be earning too much. 

“I work in a café,” he tells Kevin in reply, and Kevin, still trying not to be judgmental, completely fails and thinks  _ well, that explains a lot _ . “Kimbay’s Kafe, about three blocks east. You know it?” 

Kevin doesn’t know it, because Kevin frequents Starbucks instead of supporting smaller, independent businesses. Kevin is the reason capitalism is flourishing. “Will rent be a problem?” he asks, before he really thinks of the repercussions of the question. 

Because he hasn’t thought of the repercussions, it takes him a moment to understand exactly why Connor’s smile wipes clean from his face and he gets a crinkle of annoyance between his eyebrows. “Rent will be just fine, thanks,” Connor snaps, grabbing hold of his suitcase and shoving past Kevin. “Where’s my room?” He doesn’t wait for Kevin to answer, merely barges into his spare room and slams the door with as much attitude as he can muster. It doesn’t work great - it’s a fire door, so it ends up shutting slowly with a heavy thunk.

It takes Kevin ten minutes of overthinking their conversation to understand where he might have gone wrong, and suddenly he’s wracked with guilt. He finds himself starting to type out a sudden panicked text to Nabulungi, trying to explain that he’s already offended her best friend and that he has no idea how to diffuse the situation, before he deletes it, not wanting to make her mad at him too.

But Connor’s display of cantankerousness (even if Kevin has to admit that he was probably well within his rights to  _ be  _ cantankerous with him - he just can’t stop with the judgmental thoughts today) has faded when the redhead reappears in the kitchen a half hour after, a smile playing at his face as he notices Kevin’s holding out a mug of coffee.

“Oh,” he says, and he sounds a little touched. “Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t drink coffee.” 

Kevin looks at him weirdly. “You work at a café,” he says flatly, trying to process the information he’s just been given. “How does that work?”

Connor’s grin is shit-eating for a moment, before he quickly straightens out his features. “Oh, you know,” he says nonchalantly. “I’m a Mormon.” 

That knocks Kevin for six. Connor amends, “well, used to be,” and then takes the mug from a perplexed Kevin’s hands, taking a deep sniff. “Mmm,” he says appreciatively. “Smells like work.” 

Kevin’s not sure which point to address first; the fact that something smelling of work is a positive to Connor McKinley, or the fact that he is the most unlikely looking Mormon he’s ever seen in his life. Connor’s watching him, an amused expression on that angular face, and raises an eyebrow. “What?” he asks in an innocent voice.

“You’re a Mormon?” Kevin splutters eventually. Connor nods, and Kevin grips onto the counter in shock. “You don’t  _ look _ like a Mormon.” 

“What does a Mormon look like?” Connor asks in that same tone, taking another sniff of the coffee. “I think you’ve made this well, by the way,” he tells him jovially. Again, Kevin decides to catalogue that as a point to address later, though at the moment, there’s a more pressing issue to tackle.

“A Mormon -” Kevin begins, stammering, “a Mormon - they - you’re  _ Mormon _ ?” 

“I know right,” Connor replies, grinning and seemingly taking pity as he amends himself slightly. “Well. I’m not really sure I can call myself Mormon anymore. I haven’t been to a service in at least three years, and until they update their whole stance on the whole gay thing, I’m not sure I’ll be let back without fire extinguishers on standby. In case I get smited on sight,” he explains when Kevin continues looking at him blankly. “Or is it smote?” he adds as an afterthought, sniffing again at the mug.

Kevin is still aghast. “You’re Mormon.” 

“We’ve established this.” Connor pushes himself up to sit on the counter, kicking his feet out in front of him. “Honestly though, I mostly don’t drink coffee because I think it tastes like poison and I scalded the roof of my mouth real bad once. Let me tell you, that makes giving head real hard -” 

“Okay, okay, shut up,” Kevin says quickly, and Connor grins, clearly pleased with himself at making Kevin squirm. “You’re a Mormon.” 

“A gay Mormon,” Connor adds helpfully. 

“I can’t believe it.” 

“I know right!” Connor replies delightedly. “You’d never tell I was gay.” He looks particularly pleased with this joke. 

“I’m just surprised,” says Kevin after a moment, “because I’m a Mormon too. Kind of.” 

Now it’s Connor’s turn to look shocked. Kevin watches as his eyes flit between Kevin’s and the coffee mug, and he can almost hear the cogs in his brain whirring at that one. Finally, he just shrugs and nods. “I can see it.” 

“You can?” Kevin splutters. “How?” 

Connor shrugs. “It’s the posture,” he explains. “Oh, and the hair. I misread the hair. I thought you might be gay, but nope, just Mormon.” He presses his lips together thoughtfully, and then smiles. “Have you got food in? I’m starving. Oh, and I’m crap at cooking, by the way, so if you could make it, that would be swell. But nothing with nuts in!” he adds, and then grins wickedly. “I’m allergic to nuts. Ironically.” 

Kevin makes a disgusted noise. “You’re insufferable,” he tells him, and Connor cracks up. “You don’t have to relate everything back to sex.” 

“Oh, you’re adorable,” Connor tells him, and Kevin feels himself bristle slightly. “Such a Mormon.” Kevin pulls a face at him and Connor softens after a moment. “I get on the defensive with new people, sometimes,” he admits. “Especially Mormons. I make a lot of sex jokes when I’m feeling nervous.” 

Kevin raises an eyebrow. He would never have pinned Connor as being a particularly nervous person. From what Kevin's seen so far, he seems to ooze self-confidence and charisma. It kind of softens him a little in Kevin's eyes, and he feels that guilt creeping back again, like thick tendrils winding up his insides. “Yeah, well,” Kevin says finally when too much silence has elapsed, composing himself, “as long as you keep to my no shoes rule, you’ve got nothing to feel nervous about.” 

Connor’s smile looks hopeful for a moment, and then it turns teasing again as he pats Kevin on the shoulder and pushes himself off of the counter, popping the untouched mug of coffee back on the counter. “Oh, I know,” he tells him, and Kevin rolls his eyes. Maybe he's jumped to conclusions too soon. “You’re a pussycat, Kevin Price. I think we’re going to get along just fine, you know,” he says brightly. "Thanks for the coffee, by the way!" he adds, and then stalks off to his room, leaving Kevin to watch after him, utterly baffled by this entire afternoon.

Oh well. If it's awful, at least the contract is only for a year. Kevin tells himself that as he watches Connor's retreating back, still completely perplexed.

\---

“You never told me he was Mormon,” Kevin tells Nabulungi the next morning by way of introduction as he arrives in the staffroom. 

Nabulungi is unfazed - she’s used to being greeted like this by Kevin. “I forgot he was Mormon, if I’m honest,” she replies with a shrug as she pushes a cup of coffee towards him. Kevin accepts it gratefully. “I think he forgets, too.” 

Kevin takes a sip of his coffee, scalds his tongue on the too-hot liquid, and is suddenly reminded of Connor’s comment from yesterday. He winces. “Is he always so…” He searches for a word to describe what he means. 

Nabulungi raises an eyebrow. “So Connor McKinley? Yes, yes he is. Arnold says he is like a moth - you know, he flies about, bumping into things that don’t concern him but pique his interest, then hitting the flame, flapping wildly, and causing chaos.” She takes a thoughtful sip of coffee. “I like that description. I think it fits Arnold too.” 

Kevin thinks of his best friend and agrees. “I can’t believe you never told me he was Mormon,” he says after a moment. Nabulungi rolls her eyes and kicks out the chair opposite her at the table for him to sit on, which he accepts. “Didn’t you think that was important information to tell me?” 

“Why is it important information to tell you?” she asks him with a laugh, and Kevin struggles to put into words an answer that isn’t just  _ because I like knowing stuff and I hate surprises _ . “You needed a roommate, he needed somewhere to stay. I have fixed both of your problems. You are both useless, honestly, so now you can be useless together. How are you getting on, by the way?” 

Kevin shrugs. “He’s very loud, isn’t he? Like, you know he’s there.” Connor McKinley strikes him as the kind of person who always makes their presence known, from the way he asks outrageous questions right down to the loud clothing he wears. 

“Oh, yeah, you cannot miss him,” Nabulungi agrees, grinning, turning a page of the folder she has spread in front of her. “He has a heart of gold though, underneath all of that exterior. Don’t be fooled.” 

Kevin nods, and then leans forward to peer at what she’s doing. “What’s this?” 

Nabulungi looks up and beams. “It’s a lesson plan. Well, an idea, actually,” she amends, turning the ringbinder slightly so Kevin can get a better look at it. He can see a spider diagram accompanied by a couple of doodles, including one of the Ugandan flag. “I wanted to put on a play with my fifth graders.” 

“I love plays,” Kevin says, scooting his chair in eagerly. He watches his third graders do this on the daily, but really, do human beings ever stop being so enthusiastic, no matter what age they've reached? Kevin hopes not. “What about?” 

“I want to teach them some Ugandan folktales,” Nabulungi says after a moment, and then she looks kind of embarrassed, and Kevin feels his heart fill with warmth. “Is that a stupid idea?” 

“It’s a brilliant idea,” he tells her fondly, and she all but beams at him. Kevin’s about to ask her some more questions about it when an exhausted-looking Sadaka enters the staffroom, flopping into the chair next to Kevin dramatically. “What’s wrong with you?” 

Sadaka, the receptionist, sighs forlornly, and leans her head on Kevin’s shoulder. “I have just had  _ the  _ worst subway journey in the history of subway journeys. Imagine the worst subway journey you have ever been on -” 

“The time I got puked on,” Kevin says, as Nabulungi adds, “the time I was almost set on fire.”

“- and then treble it. Wait, you almost got set on fire?” Sadaka’s eyes are wide, and she and Kevin exchange a quick look. “Okay, Naba, maybe you reduce it by seventy-five percent, but Kevin,  _ you _ can treble it.” 

She launches into a tale of subway woe until the bell rings, and Kevin and Nabulungi both have to retreat to find their classes, but Kevin thinks about how he definitely has an interesting anecdote to tell Connor tonight when his roommate inevitably asks him to cook dinner again. He’s not sure if Connor really can’t cook, or if he’s just taking liberties. Either way, Kevin wouldn’t be surprised, but it’s nice to have someone to spend his evenings with.

\---

Kevin discovers that Connor’s actually not lying about not being able to cook two weeks into him living there. He gets home from school one day to find his roommate desperately fanning plumes of smoke out of the window. Worryingly, the smoke alarm hasn’t gone off.

Kevin switches the oven off at the wall, because even more worryingly, Connor hasn’t thought to do that, so whatever it is that’s getting slowly cremated in the cooker is potentially still ablaze. He also hasn’t switched the extractor fan on, and Kevin would be going nuclear if the redhead didn’t look quite so distressed. 

Between them, they manage to clear the flat so that it’s not so smoky, and then Kevin turns to Connor, who collapses into an armchair with a horrified expression. 

“Hi,” is all he says, and Kevin doesn’t even know which interrogative to use first. 

“What,” is the one he settles for, before continuing, “have you been doing this afternoon?” He looks around to see that Connor’s got a glass of wine on the go, and suddenly everything makes a lot more sense. 

“I was making a pie for Naba,” Connor replies with a groan as Kevin removes the offending object from the oven, smoke still billowing from the top, “but then I fell asleep on the couch and woke up to the pan boiling over, and  _ then  _ I realised it was all smoky in here, and I thought I was a victim of some kind of weird drive-by arsonist, and then I remembered the pie. I don’t think your smoke detector works, by the way. It should have woken me up.”

Kevin can’t help but think that Connor’s lucky to have woken up at all, but then again, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been, and besides, Connor looks a bit shaken up by it all. Sighing, he makes a mental note to check the batteries in it later, then passes his roommate the glass of wine on the kitchen counter and moves to go find the bottle to top him up. 

\---

Apart from nearly burning down his apartment, Kevin has to concede that Connor’s not too bad a roommate. Sure, he’s the epitome of organised chaos - he leaves a mess in his wake, and his room is diabolical, but fiddle with anything and you’ve ruined his entire system - and he’s loud and extroverted and drinks too much wine and brings too many people home for anyone who considers themselves  _ kind of Mormon _ . But he also always offers Kevin a glass, and the guys he does occasionally bring home tend to stick around to chat to Kevin during breakfast, and they’re always polite and compliment his cooking. Kevin makes some mean pancakes, even if he does say so himself, so he can’t say he’s surprised, but it’s always nice to be appreciated. 

Connor is nocturnal, it seems, although maybe he actually just never sleeps. Kevin knows that on nights he’s not entertaining, he goes for midnight walks around the city, and sometimes he brings back coffee and bagels for Kevin, wordlessly handing them over as they cross paths at six in the morning, Kevin having just woken up and Connor on his way to bed. When Kevin asks him about it, Connor insists he’s just trying to get Kevin to branch out from Starbucks. He always gets Kevin’s coffee order bang on though, and Kevin is touched. 

It’s just small gestures like these, or him leaving out books he’s read, pages containing quotes he thinks Kevin might like dog-eared and highlighted. The fact that he leaves messages in the bathroom mirror that become visible when the room steams up every time Kevin takes a shower. 

The thing he’s most grateful for is that Connor takes notice of the fact that Kevin has to unplug everything except for the fridge before he leaves the apartment. At first, Kevin can tell Connor finds it weird, and that just gives Kevin a burning sense of humiliation deep within his chest. When Connor confronts him about the fact that he keeps unplugging things that he's been in the middle of using, Kevin gets flustered, desperately searching for an excuse that isn't just  _ I’m afraid of what will happen if I don't.  _ He finds himself feeling panicky - trapped, even - and stammers and splutters. “Does it matter?” he snaps finally, frustrated that he can’t express how he feels. “I just - I like it that way, and…” He trails off, face hot. 

Connor, to his credit, just nods. “Cool,” he says simply, and then he adds, “leave a list and I'll check they're all unplugged before I go out.” 

Kevin's not sure why, but that helps. Maybe it's because Connor has just said that like it's a completely rational thing to do, or because this is the first time someone hasn’t told him in precise terms just how weird a habit it is, or that he hasn’t stood there and waited for Kevin to struggle to an answer, inevitably get frustrated, and then act offended when Kevin loses his temper. He appreciates Connor McKinley more than he can say in that moment. 

Connor busies himself with grabbing a glass of water when he stops and looks at the fridge ponderously. “We trust the refrigerator though, right?” he asks, glancing over at Kevin. 

Kevin grins. “We trust the refrigerator.” 

—- 

“I hear you’ve got a new roommate,” Sadaka says with a wicked grin as Kevin comes over to hand in some permission slips at the end of the school day. His class are heading out for a field trip in the beginning of October, and Kevin is nothing if not prepared. He’s had chaperone lists prepared since April.

“Old news, Sadaka,” he tells her, waving her off with a hand, though he’s smirking as he hands over the plastic wallet full of slips. “Gosh, you’re losing your touch. You’re normally right on top of the gossip. Do I need to go somewhere else to get my updates now?” 

Sadaka pulls a face at him, and then pats the chair opposite her desk with a heeled shoe, gesturing for him to sit down. “You hate people, don’t you?” 

“I do not  _ hate people _ ,” Kevin replies, making a disgusted noise. Sadaka snorts. Kevin bristles. “No, seriously I don’t. I work in a school.” He gestures around him for emphasis.

“You don’t hate children,” Sadaka amends, though she has one eyebrow quirked very high. “I thought you said that once they became teenagers you were out, though.”

“I never said that.”

“I distinctly remember you saying that,” Sadaka tells him, and she cackles as he shrugs and admits that maybe she’s right. Teenagers frighten him a little. There’s a reason he’s an elementary teacher. He gives a non-commital shrug as he gets comfortable in the chair opposite her desk, trying not to pout too much.

Sadaka slides a plate of homemade-looking cookies towards him, wearing a glittering smile. “So, how’s it going, sharing your apartment?” she asks, and the expression on her face makes it clear to him that she’s searching for something interesting to talk about. 

“Has it been a slow day?” Kevin asks her, an amused expression on his face.

“The slowest,” Sadaka replies. “Kalimba went home at lunch. I’ve been so  _ bored. _ The best thing I heard today was two second graders planning their recess wedding outside the office.” 

“Oh, who’s getting recess married now?” Kevin asks curiously as he reaches for a cookie, but Sadaka bats his hand down and gestures to him.

“You first, Mr. Price,” she says, giving him a smile that reveals a lot of teeth. “Who are you living with, and how much do you hate them? Tell me everything. Do they remember your no shoe thing?” 

He thinks for a moment, realising now could be a time to vent his frustrations about little annoying things that come in part and parcel with living with another human being, like the fact that Connor does not organise the coat pegs in the way Kevin would like, but the overriding fact here is that Connor has paid attention to his plug quirk, and that means everything to him. He feels  _ bad _ , then, to talk smack about the guy when he’s actively tried to help with Kevin’s biggest insecurity.

“Connor’s not so bad, actually,” Kevin admits after a moment, and Sadaka pulls another face. 

“That’s not  _ interesting _ ,” she tells him, giving him a thumbs down gesture and pulling back the plate of cookies. Cookies are only exchanged for good gossip in Sadaka’s office. “Why couldn’t you live with someone you hated?” There is a whine to her voice as if Kevin is being totally unreasonable. Kevin loves it.

“Sorry, Sadaka,” he says, and he grins as she pouts at him. “We actually get on alright. He only almost burnt my apartment down the one time.” He laughs as her face lights up, and takes a cookie that she offers him. Okay. Maybe it’s not talking smack if he just tells her this one anecdote. Besides, those cookies look delicious.

“Spill that right now, Kevin Price,” she commands, and he runs a hand through his hair, as if talking about Connor McKinley is a laborious task.

The truth is that really, it isn’t.


	2. October i.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kevin's on juice strike, and there's a trip to the Aquarium.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Thanks so much for all of your lovely comments!! I'm so glad you liked the first chapter. October was so long that I've actually split it down the middle, so I will post the second half in the next few weeks! 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and hope you have a good ol' week!

“So, I was thinking, right,” Arnold says, as he trips along the street behind Kevin in an attempt to keep up, “I was thinking a lot last night about Star Wars.” 

“You’re always thinking about Star Wars,” Kevin replies, checking his phone quickly as he tries to figure out where they are. He’s got one of Connor’s most obnoxious sweaters slung over his arm, and really, he’s kind of annoyed about it, because he’s sure Connor must have to have a break at  _ some  _ point, and really he could come home and get it himself instead of texting Kevin and begging him to go out of his way to bring it to him. Of course, though, Kevin does it, because apparently Kevin does whatever Connor McKinley asks him to do. 

“ _ Yeah _ ,” Arnold says, dragging out the word breathlessly, and spinning around in a bumbling manner as Kevin suddenly does an abrupt u-turn, following Google Maps with a look of annoyance plain on his face, “but I had this like,  _ deep thought  _ about Star Wars, and I was like,  _ woah, _ I need to tell Kev, because he will totally understand.” 

“Uh huh.” Kevin frowns at the map, and gives a grunt of annoyance. “Does this place even exist?” he snaps, before he switches apps to Whatsapp to text Connor exactly that.  _ Does this place even exist?  _

Arnold is panting. “Okay, buddy, you gotta remember, your legs are like, six times as long as mine, and you’re all like, healthy and stuff, and I’m just a short little guy trying to make my way in life, and I can’t walk as fast as you, so could you like, slow down?” 

Kevin glances over at his best friend, and feels a stab of guilt. He’s been so wrapped up in trying to find Connor’s workplace that he’s not really paid any attention to the best person he knows. “Sorry, Arn.” He gives him a sheepish smile. Arnold, of course, mirrors it, because Arnold is a sweetheart. “I’m just a little on edge.” 

“I can see that,” Arnold tells him, and he pats Kevin’s forearm. “Where are we going, anyway? You kind of just mumbled and then took off.” 

“Kimbay’s Kafe?” Kevin replies, showing him his phone screen with a pessimistic expression on his face. “I can’t for the life of me figure out where this road is.” 

“Oh, where Connor works?” Arnold asks brightly. Kevin stares at him a moment. Arnold’s smile is unwavering. “I know where that is!” 

“You know where Connor works?” Kevin’s not sure why he’s perplexed. He  _ knows  _ Arnold and Connor must know each other - Connor is Nabulungi’s best friend, after all, and Arnold’s moved in with her, so they can’t  _ not  _ have met - but somehow, he gets that feeling where two worlds collide at full force. “How do you know where Connor works?” 

“I went on my first date with Naba there,” Arnold tells him cheerfully. “It’s this way, come on! Anyway, so, Star Wars -” 

Arnold rambles the rest of the way, Kevin trailing him with a bemused expression on his face. They’re actually very close to the café, so he doesn’t have to listen to Arnold’s conspiracy theories surrounding a character Kevin absolutely doesn’t care about for too long, but he makes interested noises and nods a lot as he follows him, looking down at the jumper in his arms and wondering how Connor’s day is going.

Kimbay’s Kafe is smaller than Kevin thought it would be, but it’s also bustling and vibrant. The walls are covered in traditional Ugandan décor, a flag painted on the chalkboard menu above the counter. A fridge full of interesting-looking cakes and colourful-looking dishes stretches one wall, and there’s a map painted across another. It’s bright and busy, and Kevin instantly loves it.

There’s a woman behind the counter singing to herself as she brews up a pot of rooibos tea, and Arnold marches up to her. “Hey, Kimbay!” he greets cheerfully, and the woman spins around, her face splitting into a grin. 

“Nabulungi’s boy!” she replies, beaming, putting the teapot down and leaning across the counter to plant a kiss on one of Arnold’s cheeks. “What can I get you? Some mandazi?” She smiles knowingly.

Arnold laughs. Kevin remembers the first time he heard that laugh. It had gone straight through him. Now he finds it kind of endearing. “I mean, you know I’ll never say no,” he says, chuckling. “But actually, we’re here to see Connor. Kevin - have you met Kevin? Kevin is my best friend in the whole wide world - Kevin’s Connor’s roommate, and Connor asked us to bring him a sweater. Or him. He asked Kevin. He didn’t ask me, because I’m not his roommate, and that would be weird.” Another laugh. 

Kimbay looks up at Kevin, and he feels like they share a slightly bemused glance, before she nods. “He is being pathetic in the backroom at the moment,” she informs him, though her voice is fond. “Here, I will get you some mandazi. Sit, sit, I’ll have him bring it over.” She beams at them both, then starts humming again and disappears into the backroom. 

“Let’s go grab my favourite table, come on,” Arnold says cheerfully, grabbing Kevin’s arm and pulling him over to a booth near the window. The table is painted in black, yellow and red stripes, but there are scribbles all over it. Kevin thinks it’s graffiti at first, and is about to mention it to Arnold, when he realises that they’re actually compliments scribbled on in Sharpie. 

“Reading the guestbook?” a voice comes, and Kevin and Arnold both look up to see Connor standing in front of them. He’s wearing the clothes he went out in last night, and his hair is mussed awkwardly, the curls clearly untameable today. There are dark shadows under his eyes, and he looks very pale, wearing the expression of someone who is feeling particularly sorry for themselves. 

Kevin puts on his best stern teacher expression. “And where have you been, young man?” 

“Oh,  _ don’t, _ ” Connor groans, sliding into the booth next to Kevin and resting his head on his arms. He’s got goosebumps all over his arms, and Kevin quickly remembers the jumper. “I feel like death warmed up,” he mumbles as Kevin drapes the sweater across his back. He pulls the arms around himself and tries to snuggle into it.

“From my experience,” Kevin says lightly, “sweaters work better if you actually put them on instead of using them as a blanket. Also, aren’t you on shift?” 

“It’s my break,” Connor says into his arms. “I’ve got ten minutes. Hey, Arnold, how are you?” he adds, not lifting his head. 

“I’m great, thanks, Connor,” Arnold replies enthusiastically. “Hey, I’ve been thinking about Star Wars, and -” 

“Awesome.” Connor cuts him off abruptly, then sits up and starts to pull the sweater over his head, before he clearly runs out of energy and slumps back against the seat, tufts of red hair the only thing sprouting through the neck. 

Kevin resists the urge to laugh. “Can you not even dress yourself now?” he asks, voice amused. The red curls shake side to side in a  _ no. _ “Oh my God, Connor. Stop being pathetic.” Still, Kevin pulls the jumper down for him until Connor’s wearing it as a weird poncho of sorts. “I take it you know how to move your arms?” 

Connor pulls the sweater on the rest of the way, although he has a sullen expression on his face. 

“Have you slept at all?” Kevin asks him, trying not to sound like a concerned parent. Judging from the expression his roommate gives him, it doesn’t work. “Isn’t this kind of irresponsible?” 

“ _ Don’t _ ,” whines Connor again, and he moves to rest his head on Kevin’s shoulder. Kevin rolls his eyes, amused. “Arn, if you’re staying for lunch, invite Naba, will you? She’ll be nice to me.” He then nudges Kevin with his knee. “Eat your food.” 

Connor spends the rest of his break cat-napping on Kevin’s shoulder, before Kimbay comes over to pull him back to work. “How is the mandazi?” she asks Kevin brightly as she steers Connor by the arm, Connor grumbling. Kevin wonders to himself how Connor hasn’t been fired yet. 

“It’s delicious,” Kevin tells Kimbay instead of asking her why she’s allowing Connor to behave like this, a smile on his face. “Honestly, it’s amazing. How do you make it?”

“My grandmother’s recipe,” she tells him, and taps the side of her nose. Kevin wonders if Nabulungi knows it. He might have to try and get it out of her. 

Nabulungi arrives about half an hour later, and spends a good twenty minutes chatting in rapid Swahili with Kimbay and the happiest-looking man Kevin has ever seen, before she passes another ten chatting with Connor, who has hopped out of his chair to go meet her, having visibly perked up now he has a sweater and his best friend. Kevin feels a moment of concern as they both look over at him and laugh, and he finds himself squaring his shoulders defensively, despite the fact he doesn’t have a clue what they’re talking about. 

When Nabulungi finally comes over to them, pressing a kiss to Kevin’s cheek and nuzzling noses with Arnold (Kevin’s glad their PDA is becoming less overt - there was a time where each meeting was prefaced by an awkward five minutes of them making out), she’s beaming. 

“Kevin,” she says, and she sounds excited, and Kevin immediately forgives her for laughing in his general direction, “Kevin, I spoke to principal, and I was approved for the assembly! I get to lead a play on Ugandan folklore at the end of term!” 

“That’s fantastic!” Kevin tells her enthusiastically, because it is, and she beams, pulling her ringbinder out of the tote bag she’s brought with her. 

“I thought you might be able to help me plan,” she tells him, and he nods eagerly, while Arnold peers over her shoulder, already rearing himself up for some creative input.

They spend the next few hours at Kimbay’s, sharing a traditional Ugandan dish between the three of them, brainstorming ideas, with several of the waitstaff coming over to give them some input. The cheerful-looking man, Ghali, keeps telling them stories his mother had told him, and Kimbay asks if Nabulungi is going to incorporate any traditional music into her play, humming suggestions as if trying to get them hooked in her subconscious. 

By the time they leave, Kevin decides that maybe Kimbay’s Kafe is up there with Starbucks. 

\---

Kevin’s just finalising the plans for the field trip tomorrow morning when Connor emerges from his room, rubbing at his eyes sleepily. Kevin looks up and smiles at him. “Good nap?” 

“Not great,” Connor replies with a yawn as he makes his way over to peer in the fridge. “Have we got any juice?” 

“If you bought any,” Kevin tells him in a light voice. He’s on juice strike. Connor never buys any and consumes most of it. “Why wasn’t your nap good? Did you sleep in your clothes again?” he adds, and even though he’s making a conscious effort not to sound like a disappointed teacher, he can’t help it. He sometimes wonders how Connor’s managed to live this long. 

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” Connor says defensively as he reaches right into the back of the fridge and grabs a carton of milk. “This in date?” he asks Kevin. Kevin shrugs. Connor takes a sniff, raises an eyebrow, then braves a swig. The face he pulls is hilarious. “Decidedly not,” he declares, tossing the carton into the sink and shutting the fridge with his foot. “Ugh. That was like yoghurt. What are you doing?” he adds, coming to peer over Kevin’s shoulder at the documents spanning the table.

“Sorting the details for the field trip,” Kevin replies, looking up at him. “There’s some leftover meatloaf in the oven.” 

“I hate meatloaf,” Connor informs him, wrinkling his nose, but he goes to get some anyway. Plating up, Connor wanders back over and sits opposite him at the table. “So,” he says through a mouthful, “wher’ou goin’?” 

“Excuse me?” 

Connor swallows. “Where you going?” he asks again, and Kevin gives him a disgusted look for a moment, to which Connor just rolls his eyes and takes another bite.  _ Hates meatloaf, my ass. _

“We’re taking a class trip to the aquarium,” Kevin tells him, pointing to a pile of printed maps stacked neatly on the edge of the table. Connor being Connor, of course, immediately goes to grab one, and Kevin winces as he crumples the edges of the paper with his fingers. 

“I’m so jealous,” he says, voice envious. “I  _ love  _ aquariums.” 

“You do?” Kevin’s not sure why he’s surprised; it’s not like aquariums are an unreasonable thing to love. 

Connor nods emphatically. “I don’t care for zoos so much,” he admits, as if this is vital information to distinguish, “but aquariums? There’s something magical about life underwater, don’t you think? Also, I just really like fish.” He seems to really like Kevin’s meatloaf, as well, Kevin thinks, and he feels a small moment of pride. He knows he’s a good cook. “Can I help?” 

Kevin looks up at him, surprised. “What do you mean?” 

Connor swallows another mouthful and puts the plate down on the chair next to him. He never eats that much. “With your finalising.” He points to some of the files. “I love organising,” he admits, and his smile looks kind of embarrassed.

Kevin smiles. “If you could start writing out these wristbands, that would be great,” he says, pushing some luminous sheets of paper towards him, along with the contact details of some of the chaperones. There are three classes going tomorrow, so they’ve had to enlist the help of several parental helpers. “Yellow is Mr. Shah, orange is Miss Hatimbi. Blue is Mr. Price.” 

“Alright, Mr. Price,” Connor replies, and begins to fill out each wristband with the contact details of the respective teachers. “God, you and Naba are going to have so much fun tomorrow.” 

Kevin watches him for a moment, before he realises that he has a fun fact sheet to finish typing up. He turns back to his laptop, checking his email one last time. So far, everything seems to be going to plan. No one’s contacted him to say anyone’s pulled out, and the only email he has is a confirmation email from one of the aquarium staff. “What are you going to do with your day tomorrow?” he asks as he returns to the fun fact sheet, cropping in a picture of a clownfish into the corner. 

Connor shrugs, his tongue poking through his teeth as he draws a picture of a starfish next to Miss Hatimbi’s name. “Day off,” he says after a moment, before he dots the pen in a period and writes her number across the wristband. “I might go shopping or something. Pick up some juice.” 

Kevin grins, glad that his juice strike hasn’t gone unnoticed. “There’s a sale on at Target,” he tells him brightly, and Connor looks up, an expression halfway between realisation and betrayal growing on his face. Before he can call him out on it, Connor’s phone buzzes, and he looks down at it, a smile replacing the look of betrayal. 

“Who’s that?” Kevin asks, because Kevin is nosey. 

“My best friend from home,” Connor says, grinning. “He’s just sent me a snap of his cat. Look at that cat, isn’t that just the cutest thing you’ve ever seen in your whole damn life?” He turns his phone around and shoves it under Kevin’s nose. 

Kevin thinks it looks an awful lot like every cat he’s ever seen before, but he’s an elementary school teacher, meaning he’s nothing short of a diplomat, and instead smiles and nods. “Real cute,” he agrees, and Connor retracts the phone, takes a selfie, and then returns to writing out the wristbands. 

“Where’s home?” Kevin asks after a moment. 

Connor makes a thoughtful noise, as if he can’t quite remember. “Ohio,” he says after a moment, drawing a picture of an anemone on one of the yellow wristbands. “You?” 

“Utah.” 

“Ah, the promised land.” Connor’s got a wry smile on his face that Kevin can’t really read. “Seahorses or dolphins?” 

“Sorry?” 

Connor jars a thumb at the blue wristbands. “What do you want me to draw?” he asks. 

Kevin thinks for a moment. “Seahorses,” he says finally, and Connor nods, uncapping a Sharpie with his teeth and beginning to illustrate his class’s wristbands. “Do you go back often?” 

“Hmm?” Connor hums around the Sharpie cap.

“To Ohio,” Kevin says, watching him over the lid of his laptop. 

“God, no.” Connor lets out a little humourless laugh, spitting the Sharpie cap onto the table. “There’s nothing there for me anymore. Bar Chris, obviously. But he comes here a lot for work conferences or something, so, you know, it’s not all bad.” He adds some little bubbles to Kevin’s wristbands, and looks up. “Are you spending the whole day at the aquarium?” he asks, and it’s a gentle question, but Kevin understands. He doesn’t want to talk about Ohio. 

“Yeah,” Kevin says, and then, because he’s feeling awkward about probing and making Connor uncomfortable, he clears his throat and spins the laptop towards him. “Reckon this looks like a fun sheet for an eight year old?” 

“What the hell is with you teachers and Comic Sans?” Connor replies, pulling a disgusted face, but Kevin’s happy enough that he’s distracted him again. “Ugh, you did not use ClipArt. This cannot get any more cliché… wait, no, wait.” He looks up and fixes Kevin with a stare that Kevin raises his eyebrows at, grinning. “WordArt?  _ Really?”  _

“What?” Kevin asks innocently as Connor continues to stare at him like he’s just dribbled on his shirt. “I think it’s fun.” 

“Yeah, we’re not using it,” Connor replies, and starts tapping at the mousepad to try and fix whatever it is that has wronged him. Kevin grins and pinches a bit of the meatloaf. 

Connor reads through the fun fact sheet, commenting about how it needs more colour and less words, but it gets the McKinley seal of approval after a while. Kevin pretends that that doesn’t mean a whole lot to him.

He leaves Connor to finish the wristbands as he goes off to clean his teeth and set his alarm. 

“You’re all good,” Connor tells him when he comes back out, and flashes him a reassuring smile. “You’re all set for tomorrow. I’ll print your fun facts for you. Go to bed, old man.” 

Kevin pulls a face at Connor - they’re the same age, after all, thank you  _ very  _ much - but can’t deny that he’s absolutely wiped out, so smiles. 

Everything’s going to plan.

\---

Of course, by seven o’clock the next morning,  _ nothing _ ’s going to plan. Before he even gets to school, Sadaka phones him to tell him that Akshay’s mother has phoned to say that he’s down with a stomach bug, and that she coincidentally can’t chaperone. It would be fine if there hadn’t  _ also  _ been a huge traffic accident that had caused worse congestion than usual, taking out both Fiona’s dad and Leo’s mom, bringing the ratios down by another three. As Kevin walks around the staffroom, fretting, Sadaka comes in to let him know that she’s just had word from one of the teaching assistants to say that  _ he’s _ stranded too - because of  _ course  _ there’s a subway strike today, because Kevin needs to get somewhere and so nature’s just decided to make everything as inconvenient as possible - and won’t be able to make it in. 

“Oh my God,” Kevin frets to Nabulungi, who pats his arm reassuringly. “Oh, God, I’m going to have to cancel. We can’t go if the ratios are wrong. I booked in so many extra chaperones in case this happened, and  _ still _ -” 

“Leave it to me,” Nabulungi tells him firmly. She wanders off for a moment as Sadaka rubs Kevin’s arms comfortingly. 

“How many do you need for the ratios?” she asks him curiously, drumming her fingers against his forearm as she guides him to a chaor. 

Kevin’s phone buzzes, but he doesn’t move to check it just yet. “We need three more to be on the safe side, but right now, I will literally take anyone.” 

Sadaka shrugs. “Kalimba can hold the fort here if you want me to come,” she says, and Kevin could kiss her, he really could. 

“You’d do that for me?” he asks, and she nods. 

“Of course I would,” she tells him. “You are so weird, Kevin. I like that.” 

“Um, thanks?” 

A moment later, Nabulungi returns with the guidance counsellor in tow. “I’ve coerced Steve into helping out,” she informs Kevin brightly, and when Kevin looks at the tall blond man behind her, Kevin thinks he could kiss him too, and Nabulungi for good measure.

“Okay,” Kevin says, exhaling in relief. “Okay. Okay, maybe this will be okay.” His phone buzzes again, and he pulls it out in case it’s a parent. 

It’s a series of Whatsapp messages from Connor, all three containing inordinate amounts of fish emojis.  _ Sea you later!  _ declares the last one.

Kevin looks up at Nabulungi, a smile spreading onto his face as an idea strikes him. “How good is Connor with kids?” 

\---

It turns out that Connor’s worked with young people before, so he’s had his background checks done. Sadaka decides that while it’s not ideal, they don’t really have another choice, so by seven twenty, Kevin’s waiting for Connor at the school gates, trying to plan the way in which he’s going to make up for this. Maybe he’ll come off juice strike. Either way, he’s going to have to get Connor something from the gift shop to say thank you.

“You are amazing,” Kevin tells him in greeting as Connor makes his way up the drive, grinning. He’s bundled up in his coat, but when he sees Kevin, he stretches his arms out in a victorious march. 

“I’m alright to wear jeans, right?” he asks, gesturing down at himself with just the mildest hint of uncertainty.  

“You could wear a bikini and I wouldn’t care right now,” Kevin replies before he thinks about what he’s saying.

Connor raises an eyebrow as Kevin blushes. “I mean, I thought this was a school, and that seems like, highly inappropriate, so I think you’d probably care a little, but um. Thanks.” 

He might be a teacher, but Connor’s right - this is a school. “Oh, shut up, McKinley,” Kevin replies, using his third graders’ favourite insult. Connor grins and nudges his arm lightly. 

So by some absolute miracle, Kevin has managed to acquire his three extra chaperones, and as the kids start arriving, Kevin can move on and figure out the next thing to panic about. 

“Mr. Priiiiiice,” Sanjay says, tugging on his sleeve as Kevin tries to do a headcount (which is hard when they all keep moving around), “who’s that man?” He points at Connor, who shuffles awkwardly. 

Kevin grins. “That’s Mr. McKinley,” he says brightly, and several of the other children look up to Connor, who looks wide-eyed at the sudden attention. “Give everyone a wave, Mr. McKinley.” 

“My name is Connor,” Connor says hastily, glaring slightly at Kevin, who laughs, but he waves anyway. 

“Connor’s coming with us to the aquarium today,” Kevin informs his class, and watches as they all turn to gawk at him. He lets him suffer for a moment before he adds, “Mr. Blade and Miss Mukiibi are coming with us too.” There is small cheer which Kevin assumes is for Sadaka, and he smiles again. 

He takes roll call, then asks Connor to distribute the wristbands. 

“Oh, that’s so  _ awesome _ !” he hears a couple of the kids say as they compare drawings on the fluorescent wristbands, one of his kids leaning over to compare with a kid from Mr. Shah’s class. “Did you draw these, Mr. Price?” 

“Nope,” Kevin replies, grinning. “Mr. McKin -  _ Connor _ did.” He corrects himself when Connor glares at him. 

“Look, Miss Hatimbi!” one of his kids says after Connor’s adjusted the strap on the wristband, thrusting her fist into Nabulungi’s face. “It’s a seahorse!” 

“Wow, look at that,” Naba replies, grinning. “Isn’t that beautiful?” 

“Eh, I don’t like seahorses,” the little girl replies, and Kevin is about to tell her that that’s rude in an attempt to spare Connor’s feelings, but Connor’s not as sensitive as Kevin, it seems, because he laughs it off, turning the wristband round on her little arm so that the seahorse faces in.

“I don’t like them much either,” he tells her, almost conspiratorially. “Or any kind of horse, really. What’s your favourite fish?” 

She screws her face up as she thinks about it. “Goldfish,” she replies after a moment. “Because they’re cheesy.” 

Connor grins. “I’ll draw you a new wristband on the bus, how about that?” he compromises, and she beams at him like he’s just told her he’ll give her an Xbox. 

“I like you,” she tells him, and Connor laughs again as he straightens up to wander back over to Kevin. “I like him,” she adds to Sanjay, who looks to be as of yet unconvinced.

“That’s great, Rosa,” Kevin says, doing one last headcount and marking it down on his register. “Right, come on then, if that’s everyone. We’ve got an aquarium to go to.” 

\---

The aquarium visit goes by mostly uneventfully, although Kevin’s not sure who’s having the best time: the kids, who try to steal various creatures from the touch tank (“Kev, are they meant to be doing that?” “Doing what?” “Robbing an exhibit.” “Oh sh - Sanjay, no,  _ put the sea cucumber down! _ ”); or Connor, who spends the whole way round with a huge grin on his face and Rosa hanging off his arm (“Mr. Priiiice?” “Yes, Rosa?” “Can Connor stay with us  _ all  _ the time?” “Oh,  _ go  _ on, Mr. Price, let me stay.”). Kevin doesn’t miss the way his roommate and the guidance counsellor keep exchanging glances, either, or the way that Sadaka and Connor get on like a house on fire. That’s a potentially dangerous combination, Kevin thinks to himself, as they both burst into fits of giggles at something Sadaka’s said. Sadaka has a way of getting all of his darkest secrets out of him. Hopefully she doesn’t teach Connor her nefarious ways of extracting such information.

The rest of the day goes by pretty easily. They share Kevin’s sad-looking cheese sandwiches at lunch - Connor is livid that Kevin won’t just let him go off to the cafeteria and by a portion of fries, and lets him know by complaining (“You know what these taste like?” “Cheddar?” “ _ Sadness _ , Kevin.”) - as several of Kevin’s third graders question Connor some more. 

“Oh, that’s a  _ difficult  _ question,” Connor says to Rosa, tapping his fingers against his chin as she poses her favourite conundrum to him. “So the plane’s free-falling right?” 

“Yeah, but it’s raining,” Rosa replies with wide eyes. 

“Ah, so equal footing,” Connor says, humming. “Hmm, I’m gonna go with the shark. I know vampires have sharp teeth and everything, but if they’re closer to the sun, I think the shark’s still gonna win the fight.” He turns to look at Kevin. “What do you think, Mr. Price?” 

“I think you’re weird,” Kevin replies, and the kids laugh.

“Don’t listen to him!” Rosa says quickly, and Connor and Kevin. “He’s boring, he never answers my question! You’re  _ interesting.  _ And smart.” 

Connor looks delighted, and Kevin shoves him slightly when the kids turn their backs, stealing the rest of his sandwich.

Sanjay decides that Connor’s alright too a little later on when he rescues him from a horseshoe crab, and declares that the rest of 3KP can approve of him now. 

“That’s a mighty fine achievement, isn’t it, Miss Hatimbi?” Kevin says, grinning, as Connor’s face lights up victoriously at this particular declaration.

Nabulungi nods. “Oh, yes,” she agrees, patting Connor on the arm as she continues gathering up left behind possessions. “Eight and nine year olds are normally the toughest customers to convince.” She picks up a coat and holds it up. “Jorge, is this yours?” she calls over to a cheeky-looking boy nearby, who is in the process of pressing stickers onto the back of the girl in front of him.

“I’ll put it on my résumé,” Connor replies, but he does look rather thrilled by his achievement as they finally begin to file out of the aquarium and back to the coach.

They wait in the school yard until the kids have all been picked up, and then Nabulungi lets out a sigh. “That was reasonably successful.” 

“No accident reports to write up,” Kevin agrees, Sadaka tapping away on her phone next to him, “although the way Sanjay tells it, he almost got eaten by that horseshoe crab before Super Connor came to the rescue.” He allows Connor a fond smirk, who rolls his eyes.

“Oh, gross,” Sadaka exclaims suddenly, and she looks up at them all with a horrified expression. “I totally forgot I was going to a sushi place for dinner tonight,” she explains, and grimaces at the delighted laughs she gets in response.

Connor falls asleep on the bus home at the end of the school day, head lolling onto Kevin’s shoulder, but Kevin just lets him snooze, smiling slightly as he looks at the paper bag at his feet, containing the horseshoe crab cuddly toy he grabbed him at the gift shop to say thank you. 

\---

“Hey, Kevin?” 

Kevin looks up from where he is battling the printer in the staffroom, mug of coffee clutched in his hand as if it’s a lifeline. It’s the guidance counsellor. “Oh, hey, Steve,” he says, then realises he had been mid-string of swear words, and shuffles embarrassedly. 

“You good?” Steve Blade asks, coming over to assist. 

“I can’t get the stupid thing to work,” Kevin replies with a frustrated sigh, and shuffles to the side so Steve can have a look. 

“I hate these things,” Steve agrees sympathetically as he peers at the menu display. “Have you tried -”

“Turning it on and off again? Yep, sure I have.” Kevin’s worried it was him unplugging it earlier that’s done this. “I just think technology hates me, you know? It hates all teachers, I think. Something about getting qualified suddenly makes us all incompetent when we - oh.” Kevin cuts himself off as Steve pushes a button and the cretinous thing starts to function again. 

Steve wiggles his fingers at him. “Guidance counsellor,” he explains, grinning, and Kevin supposes he’ll let him off. “I had a question for you, actually,” he continues, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Yeah?” 

“Your friend.” Kevin raises an eyebrow at Steve, and Steve looks slightly bashful, before he continues, “the one from the Aquarium trip. Your roommate I think? Connor, was it?” 

Kevin takes a deep breath. “Oh, God, he didn’t say something did he?” he begins, wondering what he’s going to have to apologise for. He decides to mirror the words Nabulungi had told him that one time. “He was probably joking, he can be a bit full on, but he’s got a heart of gold under all that exterior -”

“No, no, he didn’t say anything,” Steve corrects him hastily, and he smiles, hand flying up to the back of his neck again. Kevin wonders if it’s itching there or something. “I just wondered if I could get his number, maybe? He is single, right?” 

That takes Kevin aback. For a moment, he wants to say  _ no, you can’t have his number, for God’s sake _ , but then he thinks about it and realises that there is literally no reason for him to feel that way. He supposes he’s started to feel a fraternal protectiveness for Connor, but then Steve could be good for him. Steve is calm and collected and stable, and Connor could probably use some stability. 

“Yeah, he’s single,” he says after a moment. “I feel a bit weird about just giving out his number, though, you know?” 

“Oh, no, no, I get it,” Steve replies, smiling, then he seems to have an idea. “Ooh, how about I give you mine, and then you can pass it on to him? That way, the decision’s in his hands, and you don’t have to explain that you don’t just give his number out to random people like some kind of pimp.” 

Kevin’s not sure he likes being described as a pimp, but can’t argue with the logic of Steve’s suggestion, and instead lets him scribble his cell number onto a piece of paper. 

\---

When he gets home that evening, Nabulungi is already in the apartment, Connor making her a coffee. 

“Connor, as much as I love these suggestions,” Nabulungi is saying, “they’re ten years old. They are not going to earn their equity card from this performance.” 

“I’m just  _ saying,” _ Connor says, as he presents Nabulungi her coffee with a flourish, “that if you get them to do that, it’ll look frigging awesome. But  _ fine, _ make it look like a school play or whatever, I guess.” 

“It  _ is  _ a school play.” 

Connor and Nabulungi both look up at Kevin to exchange exasperated glances with him, and Kevin suddenly feels a lot of pressure, so avoids both of their gazes. “Con, can I get a coffee too?” he asks the table instead.

“Already on it,” Connor replies, turning back to the machine. Kevin can feel the sheet of paper with Steve’s number on it burning a hole in his pocket. He ignores it for a moment and sits next to Nabulungi at the table instead, resting his head on her shoulder.

She doesn’t bat an eyelid, and immediately moves to pet his hair. “Long day, Mr. Price?” she asks him, her tone amused. 

Kevin nods. “We were trying to make a display board about what we learnt at the Aquarium.” 

“What  _ did _ we learn at the Aquarium?” Connor asks interestedly as he places Kevin’s coffee in front of him, taking a seat opposite them. 

Kevin looks up at him. “We learnt that sea cucumbers are supposed to stay inside of the touch tank and not live in Sanjay’s backpack, no matter how much we want them to be our friends.” 

Connor grins as he pulls out his phone. “ _ Love _ that.” He looks at whatever text message he’s received and pouts. “Ugh, Chris is in love and it’s disgusting and I’m jealous.” 

Naba pats his arm, the patronisingly sympathetic expression only one sickeningly in love can achieve on her face. “You’ll find love one day, Connor.” 

Connor looks up at her with an unconvinced expression. “Not if I can help it.” 

Kevin clears his throat, and points at Nabulungi’s ringbinder. “Have you started writing a script?” he asks, noticing what looks to be printed lines. Nabulungi nods and hands the manuscript over to him, which he flicks through. 

“This is so good, Naba.” 

“I know right,” Connor agrees, and he looks over at Nabulungi with what Kevin can only describe as heart eyes. Kevin grins - he’s sure he looks at Arnold like that too. “Oh, Kimbay’s given me a CD to give to you of backing music, by the way, although I think two months is enough time to train them to use traditional instruments.” 

“Again, Connor, they’re ten years old.” 

“And? Mormon kids have to learn like, an entire language in just a few weeks before their missions, and kids are  _ way _ better at picking stuff up than teenagers. It’s hard going, let me tell you. Preparing for a mission is difficult enough, let alone the language lessons.” Connor sits back in his chair smartly, before he realises both of them are pinning him with a weird look. “What?” 

“No way. You never went on your mission,” Kevin says flatly, disbelieving, because Connor is just  _ so  _ not-Mormon that Kevin can’t compute the idea of him in a conservative suit, trying to spread the faith.

“Oh, God no,” Connor replies, but he has that shit-eating grin on his face again that he gets whenever he reals something about his Mormon upbringing. “Well. Not for long, at least. I dropped out. But I was district leader, I’ll have you know.” He mimes straightening a tie.

Kevin can’t believe this. “Mormons don’t lie,” he says, and Connor’s expression is gleeful. 

“Cross my heart, I am telling the absolute truth,” he tells him, and Kevin feels a bit faint. “Why do you think Kimbay hired me?”

Kevin shrugs. “Because she took pity on you?” 

“Because I  _ speak Swahili _ ,” Connor replies with a grin. “Well, not great, or anything, but, you know. More than your average white guy from Ohio.” 

Kevin looks at Nabulungi, who nods. “He does,” she confirms, and Connor’s beam is infuriating. “Kimbay also totally took pity on him, though. You are correct.” She leans forward. “You never told me about this mission though.” 

Connor shrugs. “Not a great time in my life, to be honest,” he replies, and Kevin thinks he looks sad for a moment, when suddenly he puts on that brilliant beam he does whenever he’s about to masterfully change the subject. “Anyway! Musical instruments - yay or nay?” 

Arnold arrives shortly after, and they order a pizza to share, because it’s a Thursday night and Kevin just cannot be bothered to cook. They plan Nabulungi’s play for a bit, and then it devolves into idle chatter, Arnold and Nabulungi snuggling up together on their couch as Kevin and Connor sit cross legged on their floor. Arnold and Naba give each other doe eyes all night, nuzzling noses at every available opportunity. When they finally leave, they’ve barely set foot outside of the apartment before they’re making out.

As Kevin closes the door behind them, he turns to Connor and sighs. “They’re so disgusting, aren’t they?” he says.

Connor nods. “I know right,” he says, then sighs as well. “I kinda want that.” 

Kevin feels Steve’s number burning in his pocket again. It feels heavy, like he’s carrying a rock in there instead of paper. “Yeah?” he asks. 

“It’s dumb, I know,” Connor says, and he lets out a laugh. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think it’d be nice to have an Arnold, you know?” 

Kevin weighs up his choice, and then realises that it’s absolutely not his decision. Besides, Mormons don’t lie, and maybe this isn’t technically lying, but it’s omitting the truth, and, well. “Steve Blade,” he says abruptly, and Connor looks up in confusion. “From the Aquarium. Our guidance counsellor,” he adds by way of explanation. 

Connor nods. “The cute one,” he says, and Kevin knows then that he’s doing the right thing. 

“He was asking after you today,” he tells him, and slides the sheet of paper with Steve’s number on it towards Connor.

Connor looks perplexed for a moment, and then he grins. “Wow,” he says, and he laughs slightly. “A real elementary school ask out. You should have just gone in with ‘my friend Steve thinks you’re cute’.” 

“I can take it back,” Kevin interrupts, reaching out to snatch the sheet of paper from his roommate’s deft fingers, but Connor pulls it close. 

“Noo,” he says, and Kevin smirks. “Thank you, messenger.” 

“Shall I tell my friend Steve my friend Connor thinks he’s cute back?” Kevin asks, and Connor raises an eyebrow. 

“Nah, your friend Connor can do that himself, thanks.” He’s smiling to himself though, and Kevin thinks that maybe this is worth it. Maybe this will make Connor happy, and while he’s not exactly sure when Connor’s happiness became a priority of his, Kevin knows it’s there to stay.


	3. October ii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor is all loved up and Kevin hates it. Also, it's Halloween.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry for the wait - I had little bits I needed to edit, and then I decided since Halloween was coming up, it might be fun to publish it nearer to the time! 
> 
> Just a quick warning that the penultimate section of the chapter (as well as mild references to this at the very end of the chapter) contains getting stuck in an obsessive compulsive cycle - it's been based off both my own and other family member's experiences, but doesn't speak for everyone (as the spectrum of mental health is huge and nobody has the same experience). It's not too graphic, but if you want to skip it, please feel free <3 I've popped a couple of underscores into the dividers to differentiate, so they should look like -_-_-! 
> 
> Thanks guys! Have a great week, and I should have the next chapter up within the next couple of weeks <3

October breezes by, and the weather turns, starting to get chillier, rainier, more autumnal. Fall has well and truly taken hold of New York City, and winter doesn’t seem too far away. Kevin’s sat in Kimbay’s, waiting for Connor to finish his shift, chatting with Ghali at the counter.

“My village never celebrated Halloween,” Ghali tells him as Kevin helps him to hang up some cobweb material above the counter. “That is an Irish thing, I think. I think it is a fun idea to decorate the café, though! And we are going to bake some Halloween themed cakes with a Ugandan twist, and I am personally responsible for icing them.” Ghali grins at Kevin like this is the best news in baking since the invention of sliced bread, and Kevin finds himself grinning back, that smile infectious. (It’s worth noting that Ghali really is an excellent baker, as well. Kevin thinks this is an excellent decision.)

Kimbay gives Kevin a free coffee for his efforts, and starts to stick plastic spiders around the fridge. “You will come to our Halloween evening, yes?” she asks him as she places a set of vampire fangs in between two plates with a little flourish. “We are having a party here. I asked Connor to make you his plus one, but then he said he _had_ a plus one, and well. I decided I wanted you to come anyway.”

Kevin is touched for a moment. “You wanted me to be his plus one?” he asks, smiling at her.

Kimbay nods and makes a gesture to brush him off when he makes an _awww_ -ing sound. “But since he has a plus one already, I will invite you and give you a plus two that I will insist upon. So, bring Arnold and Nabulungi, please.” She gives him a wicked grin, then pats him on the shoulder and laughs.

“Connor has a plus one?” Ghali asks, straightening up so quickly he almost hits his head on the counter. He meets Kevin’s gaze, own eyes wide, before his face splits into a beam. “No way! Since when?”

“Since like, a week ago,” another voice says, and they turn to see Connor as he reappears from the backroom, pulling his coat on over his sweater. “Ready to go?” he asks Kevin. Kevin goes to nod, but Ghali throws out an arm to block Connor’s exit, hitting Kevin in the stomach.

“Who is your plus one?” he asks Connor, while sending an apologetic smile at Kevin for winding him.

“His name’s Steve,” Connor replies, knocking Ghali’s hand down as he makes to shove past him, “and you can meet him at Halloween. We’ve got a dinner date to get to.”

“Is the dinner date with Steve?” asks Kimbay, and her smile is glittering as she steps in the way to block Connor’s path too. “Is Steve your boyfriend?”

“ _No_ , it’s with Nabulungi and our friend Sadaka, actually. Oh, and Kevin, too,” Connor tells her, pulling a face, but he turns pink and can’t hide his face in time before all three of them are making teasing noises. “Oh, shut _up_ you guys,” he snaps, and he pulls his hood up over his head, grabs Kevin’s arm and starts pulling him towards the exit. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Kevin, do you know Steve?” Ghali calls after him.

“I introduced them,” Kevin replies, deciding to take credit where credit is due, Connor still dragging him towards the door.

“Are they cute?” Kimbay asks, grinning. “Are they in love?”

“Kevin, if you answer that question, I’m barring you,” Connor tells him, voice deadly serious. Kevin doesn’t think he’s ever seen Connor blush like this, and he can’t stop grinning.

“Kevin, if you don’t answer the question, I’m barring you,” Kimbay shoots back, her voice even more so, but Connor’s sending her a rude hand gesture and forcing the door closed behind them before Kevin can answer, Kimbay and Ghali both laughing in the window.

\---

“I had a question, actually.”

“Of course, Mrs. Parmar,” Kevin says, leaning forward intently and giving her a reassuring smile as Sanjay bops up and down in the chair next to her. Parent’s Evening is almost over - Sanjay’s mother has taken the last appointment of the night, and while she seems very happy with his progress, she looks mildly concerned about something.

“Sanjay says that he was attacked by a shark at the Aquarium.”

Kevin looks at Sanjay, who stops bouncing in his chair and stares back at him, his expression mildly guilty but also oddly challenging. “Does he now?” Kevin asks, and he can’t help the amused tone of voice. “Well, I don’t think that was exactly what happened, now, do you, Sanjay?” He looks back to Sanjay’s mother and makes to explain the situation a little more. “A horseshoe crab gave him a bit of a start, I think, but one of our chaperones helped him fend it off.”

Mrs. Parmar allows Kevin a smile and then looks at him. “I’m concerned, Mr. Price,” she says in a quieter voice. “I think that Sanjay has a tendency to… to exaggerate the truth. He makes things up a lot.” She gives him a worried look. “Is that normal for boys his age?”

Kevin looks at Sanjay, and then smiles. “I think Sanjay has something we’d call an overactive imagination, Mrs. Parmar,” he tells her after a moment. “He’s very creative. He might be prone to the odd exaggeration -”

“He lies often,” Mrs. Parmar corrects him.

Kevin bites his lip. “He embellishes the truth,” he says after a moment, diplomatically. “But I think that’s a sign of creativity rather than one of malice.”

“Is that normal, though?” Mrs. Parmar asks worriedly. “I’m worried that if he doesn’t grow out of it now, he might never get a job in the future.”

“I know someone very, um, imaginative,” Kevin says softly, and Mrs. Parmar blinks worriedly at him.

“And what does he do?” she asks.

“He writes kids’ books,” he informs her. “Arnold Cunningham, you know him?” Mrs. Parmar shakes her head, but Sanjay nods eagerly.

Kevin feels awkward, talking about Sanjay like he’s not even there, so he turns back to the little boy and smiles. “Why don’t you tell your mom about the creative writing assignment you did?” he says instead, and Sanjay is grinning again. “Sanjay got top marks for that.”

As Sanjay launches into the tale, Kevin grins, and makes a mental note to try and bully Arnold into maybe doing a morning with his kids. He also jots a sentence beneath it on his mental notepad to tell Connor about how he’s clearly morphed into some kind of superhero in Sanjay’s mind.

When Mrs. Parmar’s fears are assuaged and she and Sanjay leave to go home, Kevin finds himself wandering over to Sadaka, who has made him a coffee. Accepting the mug gratefully, he leans back against the wall so their shoulders are touching and rests his head atop of hers.

“Almost hometime,” he says, sighing wistfully as he casts a glance at the doors. What with parents’ evening and the nights drawing in, it’s dark outside. “You doing anything fun tonight?”

“I was supposed to be going to the movies with your roommate,” Sadaka replies, poking Kevin in the arm, “but he’s so loved up he has blown me off for dinner with _Steve_.” She blows a raspberry. “So I think instead I will see what ice cream I can find reduced at Walmart and then watch whatever crap they are showing on Freeform. I would ask Kalimba to come over but I think she is having date night with her husband, so I suppose I will just look at cat adoption sites and prepare to die alone.”

That took a turn, Kevin thinks. He pats Sadaka on the shoulder. “Wanna come over to ours?” he asks her, and Sadaka smiles brightly at him. “I’ve got some leftovers and I’m working my way through the box set of _The Bachelor_ . Connor’s got me hooked.” He doesn’t mention that Connor isn't actually that interested in _The Bachelor_ and had actually only ‘gotten him hooked’ because he’d left his laptop streaming while he’d gone off to buy some noodles. “I also have a great WiFi connection, so we can browse cat adoption sites together to your heart’s content.”

Sadaka pokes him in the ribs and grins. “That sounds like exactly the tragic evening in I’ve been dreaming of all day.”

\---

When Connor gets home that evening, Sadaka and Kevin have only bookmarked four cats from various adoption pages (one of them, a scruffy old tabby by the name of John, has an expression so grumpy that Kevin very nearly cries, much to Sadaka’s delight, and it takes all of his willpower and Sadaka sitting on his cellphone to keep him from calling the number and offering to whisk John away to the safety of his apartment) and are just about to crack open a second tub of ice cream. The redhead stands there for a moment.

“Am I going to ask, or is it better not to?” he says after a moment, looking between them, Steve hovering over his shoulder with an amused look.

“I almost replaced you with a fat tabby called John,” Kevin informs him as Sadaka giggles. They’ve shared a bottle of Connor’s wine, and he feels slightly buzzed.

“I would not complain,” Connor replies after a moment considering it, before his eyes narrow. “Hey, is that my rosé?”

“It is very cheap,” Sadaka tells him, wrinkling her nose as she raises her glass back to her lips. Kevin lets out a giggle at that, which he coughs to suppress. He is a man in his twenties. He does not giggle. “Next time, you should buy a brand up, please.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Connor says, trying to sound annoyed, but failing. Instead he turns to look at Steve, who looks back with equally as simpering an expression, and Kevin pulls a face at Sadaka, who cracks up as if Kevin is the pinnacle of comedy instead of just a slightly tipsy elementary teacher with a bad taste in ties. Connor’s eyes snap back to them momentarily, before he looks up again at Steve and smiles. “Shall we stay for a drink with these losers, then?”

Steve grins. “It’d be nice to get to know you both a little more,” he says cheerfully, and Kevin wonders why he’s annoyed that Steve is such a nice person. “Do you have a picture of John, Kev? I love tabbies. I imagine one would be a lot less maintenance than Connor too.”

Connor pouts as Sadaka and Kevin both give him polite chuckles, but leans forward as Kevin reopens the websites to show the pictures of John. “Oh, he’s gorgeous,” the redhead says emphatically, and Kevin looks up at him with an expression that he hopes clearly says _I know right?!_.

“I’d adopt him in an instant,” Kevin tells Connor firmly, as if he has never spoken words more fundamentally true.

Connor’s grin is one of the three he alternates between when something Kevin has said has given him a wicked idea. “Would you now?” is all he says as he reaches for the ice cream.

“I love him with my whole heart,” Kevin replies, because his brain is fuzzy and he’s apparently unsure of when to stop digging. “He’s so fat and fluffy, _and_ he won’t leave me for some dumb boyfriend. No offence, Steve.”

“None taken,” Steve replies, a good natured smile on his face. “Hey, though, Con, the way you’re going with that ice cream, he really will be a replacement. If only he were a ginger Tom.”

Maybe Kevin’s head is just slightly too fuzzy, but he’s not so sure that comment sits so well with him. He could swear Connor looks a bit hurt by that, but then the redhead rearranges his expression and smiles.

Either way, Kevin’s had enough wine to be instilled with a false confidence only brought about by alcohol. “What do you mean?” he asks, voice harsher than he intends. “Connor’s like, the skinniest guy I know.”

“Yeah,” agrees Sadaka, and she blows a raspberry at the affronted expression on Connor’s face. “He looks like a gust of wind could knock him over.”

“If we could all stop discussing Connor’s physique, that would be super swell,” Connor interrupts, rolling his eyes in an almost exaggerated manner. Steve presses a kiss to Connor’s forehead, and the redhead laughs, batting him away. “Anyway, how was Parents’ Evening, guys?”

Sadaka takes the lead, launching into a story about how Mrs. Morales’ class had been making cakes before the end of summer and how it had taken them til this evening to discover the mice that had made a home in the cupboard that had been housing them. It’s a dramatic story, and they all crack up and swap anecdotes and have a fun evening.

Still, Kevin doesn’t miss how Connor’s put down the ice cream.

\---

The apartment is dark when Kevin gets back after work and tosses his keys onto the side, so when he hears a voice cut through the black greeting him, he very nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Jesus, Connor,” he says, flipping a light on and seeing Connor grinning back at him, curled up on the couch with his phone in hand, “you scared the shit out of me. Almost had a code brown.” He squints at Connor and sighs. “Why are you just sat in the dark like a murderer, huh?”

Connor shrugs. “I got all comfy and didn’t wanna stand up to go flip the light on,” he says, and wiggles his feet under the comforter he’s dragged from his bedroom for emphasis. Kevin raises an eyebrow, but has to admit that he does look very snuggly. “How was your day?”

Kevin drops his bag on the table and comes to perch on the arm of the couch. “It was alright,” he says, because it was. “Nothing much to report. I can’t be bothered to cook,” he adds, and Connor looks up from his phone and smiles at him sympathetically. “Wanna order takeout?”

“And you say _I’m_ the enabler,” Connor replies, but when he turns his phone screen around, Kevin sees that he’s already gotten a takeout app open. “I’m thinking that Vietnamese place that just opened down the street looks good.”

They bicker over what to order for a little while (Kevin wants to go in on a deal but Connor insists that he’s not hungry enough to eat that much food and points out that Kevin is on rather a more substantial wage than he himself is), before they settle for two pho dishes and some rolls to share.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Kevin asks after they manage to scramble together enough change in preparation for paying the delivery boy. He’s managed to steal half of the comforter, stretching his legs out against Connor’s as he watches his roommate text at the other end of the couch.

“Sure,” Connor says, not looking up from his phone. Kevin thinks he must be texting Steve, because he has a gooey expression on his face. “Nothing too heavy going, though. I’ve got a bit of a headache.”

“We could watch a Disney movie,” Kevin suggests, tone light, and he begins to prepare a list of his top five to try and narrow it down. He imagines they’ll be debating for hours; _all_ Disney films are excellent, after all.

“Oh, God no,” Connor says with a laugh, still engrossed in his phone. “I can’t stand Disney.” He must sense that Kevin is staring at him, because he looks up after a second and raises an eyebrow. “What?” he asks, confused.

“You can’t stand Disney,” Kevin repeats, feeling faint.

“Well, no,” Connor says, shifting in his seat, “not really. Like, it’s fine, but it’s all so twee, and every story is the same, and the songs are like, _fine_ , but they’re just very sub par. And the princesses have like, no personality, and the princes are _so_ unattractive. I mean, like, there are fences with more personality than some of those princes.” He frowns. “Kevin, you okay?”

Kevin is gripping at the arm of the couch as though he has just been fatally wounded. For all intents and purposes, he has been. “How,” he says, voice weak, “can you hate Disney? How can _anyone_ hate Disney? Disney is great. Scratch that, Disney is one of the best things about this poxy little planet.”

“ _Wow,”_ Connor says, and he’s raising both eyebrows now, looking a little shocked by Kevin’s outburst. “Okay. I didn’t realise you had such strong feelings about Disney.”

“How can you say that the princesses have no personality?” Kevin all but exclaims, and Connor jumps slightly. “Moana! Merida! Anna and Elsa! Sure, a couple of the princesses were a little two-dimensional -”

“Literally,” mutters Connor.

“- but in recent years, Disney has just produced triumph after triumph after triumph!” Kevin continues, ignoring Connor’s comment. “This is - you know what, I can accept you not cooking, and being messy, and the fact that you _blatantly_ ignore my no shoes rule -” (Kevin doesn’t miss the fact that Connor tucks his feet under the blanket some more to hide the fact that he’s wearing those battered Converse he can’t bring himself to part with) “- but not liking Disney? That’s too far, McKinley.”

“You can’t kick me out _now,”_ Connor replies, and Kevin can tell he’s trying hard not to laugh. “I’ve got pho on the way.”

“You can finish your pho,” Kevin tells him, and Connor blows him a kiss, “but then you’re out. I can’t believe you don’t like Disney. You’ve obviously not seen Big Hero 6.”

“We’re not watching Disney, Kevin.”

“You’ll love Big Hero 6.”

“I don’t want to watch a Disney movie, Kevin!”

“I’m putting on Big Hero 6 -”

“For the love of God, Kevin, _fine.”_

Kevin studies Connor’s face the whole way through the movie, determined for his roommate to enjoy it, although that doesn’t stop Kevin himself from ultimately tearing up several times throughout it. When Connor doesn’t, Kevin kicks him under the blanket.

“You are made of stone,” he tells him defeatedly through stinging eyes, and Connor shuffles round to put his arm around Kevin, making a cooing noise. Kevin pretends to fight him, calls him heartless, and then turns his face into Connor’s shoulder as Connor rubs circles into his arm soothingly with his fingers.

_He_ still likes Disney, even if Connor has no taste.

(And even if Connor has no taste, that doesn’t mean that this doesn’t feel really nice. Kevin blinks _that_ particular confusing thought away with the itching in his eyelids.)

\---

Sadaka has kitted out the staffroom with bowls of candy when Kevin gets in on the morning of the thirty-first, and has put caution tape over every teacher’s classroom door. Nabulungi is already in the staffroom, chatting away to Kalimba (Kevin grins at her) and Steve (Kevin grimaces at him) as she brandishes a substantially thicker version of the ringbinder containing all of her plans for her play.

“I can’t wait to see it,” Steve says as he offers up a bowl of candy to Kevin (Kevin politely declines, then takes a piece of candy from the bowl behind Kalimba - and if that’s petty, well, he doesn’t care). “It’s so nice to see how much passion and preparation you’ve put into it, Nabulungi.”

“Connor has helped a lot,” Nabulungi tells him, and Steve gives her a simpering smile, and Kevin wants to vomit. Honestly, he has no idea why he is so vehemently against Steve. He’s really trying to like him. There’s just something about him that makes Kevin’s teeth itch, and he can’t quite put his finger on it.

“Happy Halloween, Kev,” Steve says to Kevin, and Kevin’s grimace returns to his face.

“Same to you, Steve.” Kevin’s never really acknowledged Halloween - he didn’t acknowledge it as a kid in Utah, and it’s only been since coming to New York that he’s really started to take any notice of it. Halloween doesn’t seem to hold the same charm when you only discover it at twenty-one years of age, and so he’s largely indifferent to it.

Still, he _does_ like the fact that it seems to be an excuse to eat your bodyweight in little pumpkin shaped chocolates, he decides, as Kalimba presses about five into the palm of his hand, giving him a wink that makes him feel like a little boy being doted on by a kind old auntie (even if Kalimba is only about fifteen years older than him). Kevin’s math skills might be mostly elementary level, but he calculates that something about making a chocolate pumpkin-shaped makes it taste about four times as delicious.

He also has to admit that seeing the kids all dressed up and excited is very heartwarming too. Akshay and Fiona have come in dressed as pirates; Leo is wearing a Robin Hood costume (Kevin’s not sure how long it’ll be until he has to confiscate the bow and arrow he’s brought in). Sanjay has turned up dressed as a character from one of Arnold’s stories (and doesn’t Kevin feel like an awful best friend when he realises he can’t remember if it’s Blork or Lizatron who has the red and gold eye patch from _The Aliens Who Couldn’t Share_ ). Rosa is dressed as an octopus.

“Mr. Priiiiice,” whines Bruno after Kevin’s taken roll call, “do we _have_ to do math today? I wanna test out Hannah’s cape.” He points to the girl next to him, who is dressed as superman, inflated pectorals and all.

Kevin grins. “If we’re good today,” he says, “I’ve got a fun craft activity for this afternoon. But only if we’re good,” he adds, as a ripple of excitement runs across the class like a wave. “We need to work hard to make sure we get our math and literacy done this morning. And if we have time, we might even get a chance to do a show and tell of our costumes. Sound good?”

The kids agree, and Kevin thinks as he watches them scribble down their creative writing task in with such an energy of excited concentration that whoever said costumes distracted from learning had obviously been unfamiliar with the concept of a bribe.

**-_-_-**

Kevin’s running late for the Halloween party, and he hates it.

He meant to leave three quarters of an hour ago after he’d hung up the papier maché pumpkins to dry, but the thing is that he walked past Mr. Singh’s classroom and noticed that the smartboard was still plugged in, and that was it. From there, Kevin’s been wandering around, making sure that everything that _can_ be unplugged _is_ unplugged, and he finds himself blinking back frustrated tears as he glares at the sticker reading _Don’t Turn Me Off Please!_ above a switch on the wall of Nabulungi’s classroom, a little smiley face tormenting him on the fraying edge of the adhesive. He knows he should be able to walk away, that this isn’t normal, that there is a janitor who will come and check, that rationally, nothing bad can happen.

That doesn’t mean that rationality is easy to come across.

He’s threading his fingers through his hair, fisting great handfuls as he lets out a frustrated noise through his teeth. _Come on, Kevin. Get it together. Come on, leave it._

When his phone rings, he almost doesn’t answer it, his heart hammering in his chest as he continues to stare at the light switch. But finally, the shrill ring of the cell phone gets too much, causing the anxiety to thrum even more through his veins, and Kevin reaches for it.

He’s so frustrated that he can’t even bring himself to hide it. “What?” he asks.

_“Hello to you too,”_ Connor’s voice comes through the phone cheerfully, and Kevin doesn’t know why, but he feels a sense of relief wash over him. He lets it permeate his being and only realises that he’s totally missed whatever it is Connor’s been saying when he hears his roommate speak again. _“Kevin? You good?”_

“Yeah,” says Kevin after a moment, fingers trailing over the switch one last time. “I’m just… I’m stuck at school.” He takes a deep breath through his nose, and lets it out through his mouth, trying to focus on Connor. Connor is calm. Connor is safe. Nothing bad can happen while Connor is on the phone. “What do you need?” he asks, closing his eyes, focusing on his breathing and the voice of his roommate.

_“Stuck at school?”_ Connor repeats, and Kevin makes a non-committal noise. _“Everything alright?”_

“Don’t worry about it,” he tells him. “What do you want?”

_“Oh,”_ Connor says, sounding a bit lost at Kevin’s dismissal. _“Um. Oh, yeah. So, Kimbay wondered if you could like, grab some beers on your way over if you’ve not left yet, and by Kimbay, I mean I was wondering. I’ll pay you back -”_

“Yeah, no, absolutely,” Kevin cuts him off, and he uses this new challenge as a distraction to pull him away from the light switch. He needs to get Connor his beers in order for his friend to have a good night, or else -

Connor stops Kevin’s thought progressing. _“It’s no biggie, but I’ll love you forever,”_ he tells him brightly through the receiver. _“By the way, you can’t skimp out on a costume just because you’re coming from school, you know. I expect you to turn up fully spooked up.”_

“I’ll try my best,” Kevin says, and he allows himself a small chuckle as he finally manages to step out of Nabulungi’s classroom.

_“Thanks, babe,”_ Connor says, and Kevin preens at the pet name. _“You’re really helping me out. I’ll pay you back as soon as.”_

“Don’t worry,” Kevin tells him. “It’s a gift.” He doesn’t tell Connor it’s a thank you. He doesn’t want Connor to know that he gets trapped sometimes, not when his stomach is still aching with shame and his veins still thrumming with anxiety. “You can just, I don’t know. Buy me a pizza next time.”

_“It’s a deal, Kevin Price,”_ Connor says brightly, and Kevin smiles, using all of his willpower to keep his eyes on the door as he strides towards it. _“Now get your cute little butt over here. Kimbay wants to see you. I wouldn’t mind seeing you either,”_ he adds, and Kevin feels a glow in his chest.

Kevin takes another deep breath - in, hold, out - and then nods to himself firmly. “I’ll try get there as soon as I can,” he says, and pushes the door open to leave the school.

**-_-_-**

“No, no, no,” Connor says as he opens the door to Arnold, Nabulungi and Kevin. Kevin met the couple outside 7-Eleven when he went to pick up Connor’s beer, and they made their way over together, Kevin still trying to calm himself down. “No, you are _not_ wearing that.”

“What’s wrong with what they’re wearing?” Kevin asks in mock-outrage, gesturing to Arnold and Nabulungi, who are dressed as Harry Potter and Hermione Granger respectively.

“ _They_ are fine,” Connor replies, standing aside so that Arnold and Naba can enter. He’s dressed as David Bowie circa Ziggy Stardust. His makeup is flawless, and Kevin curses his artistic prowess. “ _You_ , on the other hand…” He looks Kevin up and down, his expression judgmental.

Kevin makes a hissing noise. “Don’t start,” he snaps, rolling his eyes. “What’s wrong with it?”

Connor simply looks at Kevin in response, one eyebrow raised. Kevin sighs.

“I came straight from work,” he defends himself, digging his hands in his pockets and shuffling awkwardly. He doesn’t want to dwell on _why_ he came straight from work, so he decides maybe letting Connor tease him isn’t so bad a sacrifice. It’s better than concerned looks, or being considered a freak. “All I had in the classroom was this one wizard’s hat, and besides, Arnold wouldn’t let me be Harry, so I didn’t want in on their dumb costume.” There’s an element of truth to that. He’s not exactly lying.

“Oh my God,” Connor says, and his face lights up with delight. “Are you actually kicking off because for once you weren’t allowed to play the hero? This is literally _the_ most Kevin Price thing I have ever heard.”

“ _No,_ actually,” Kevin says hotly, shuffling awkwardly as he wills himself not to turn pink. Connor clearly knows he’s hit the nail on the head, and Kevin wants to wipe the smug expression off his face, so he says, “for your information, I just didn’t want to have to dress up as a ginger.” He feels mildly satisfied as Connor pretends to gasp in offence.

“Oooh, you cut me deep, Kevin Price,” he says, but he grins and steps to the side to let Kevin in. “Come on, bring your sad little costume inside before you start wounding civilians with that sharp tongue of yours.”

Inside the café is the most unconventional Halloween party Kevin’s ever seen, and he loves it. A band has set up stage in the corner by the guestbook table, playing traditional Ugandan music. They seem to have foregone the usual hot beverages for those slightly cooler and more alcoholic, and Kevin finds a lager being pressed into his hand by Ghali, who is dressed as a spirit. A plate of mandazi iced with spiderwebs is also pushed into his other hand, and Ghali grins from ear to ear as Kevin pretends to swoon at the flavour.

The tables have been pushed aside to make space for a dance floor, where Kimbay is forcing Steve to dance with her. Kevin sees how much fun they seem to have together and feels a stab of annoyance, when he remembers that he is an adult, and he doesn’t need to be everyone’s favourite person.

Connor comes to stand next to him as he watches, and takes a sip of the drink he’s holding. “Reckon Kimbay’s gonna steal him?” he asks, voice amused. Kevin looks at him, watching the way Connor smiles at Steve, and reminds himself of that simple fact again. He doesn’t need to be everyone’s favourite person.

Instead, he smiles as Kimbay forces Steve to do an awkward twirl, and says, “you might want to check she doesn’t lock him in the break room before you leave.”

Connor grins, takes another sip of his wine as he leans back against the table behind them. “How was work?”

“Fine,” Kevin says, shrugging. He doesn’t want to talk about it, and he can feel the anxiety at having to bring it up again prickling up in his stomach.

“You got off late, then?”

“Yeah,” Kevin says, swallowing, looking at his feet. There’s a mark on his school shoes.

Connor nods, taking a sip of his wine. “You know you can always talk to me, right?” he says, and Kevin turns to look at him, mouth slightly open. He tries to find words. He’s not sure what he wants to say. _Talk about what? What do you mean? I’m fine? Leave me alone?_ But when he looks at Connor, who surely doesn’t know what it is that’s kept Kevin back but is offering himself up as a shoulder to lean on - well, Kevin suddenly feels a sense of gratitude that he has this guy in his life. He thinks through his questions again, trying to decide which to ask.

Instead, Kevin just nods. “Thanks,” he says, and he means it. Connor nods, a small smile on his face as he searches Kevin’s expression for something. Kevin tries to keep his face neutral, and Connor nudges his elbow.

Then he nods over at Steve and says: “He can’t dance for shit, can he?”, and Kevin laughs. “No, come on, seriously, like, look at him,” Connor continues, almost as if he’s trying to justify having insulted him. “I think he’s great, obviously, and he’s good at so many things, but dancing is not one of them.”

“Shock horror,” Kevin says, voice teasing. He’s feeling a little bit better, and of course he’s never going to miss up an opportunity to tease Connor, especially if it involves making fun of Steve Blade. “Connor McKinley’s bagged a guy who can’t dance. Whatever shall he do?”

“Don’t you worry your pretty head about me, Kevin Price,” Connor replies, grinning and pushing himself up off of the table. “I can dance well enough for the both of us.” He blows Kevin a kiss, and goes in to steal his boyfriend back from Kimbay.

Kimbay does a swap with Connor, and then Connor takes over, dancing with Steve and laughing, as his boss comes over to stand by Kevin.

“So,” Kevin says, eyes still lingering on where Connor is cracking up, trying to direct Steve to dance with any semblance of rhythm. “That’s Steve -”

“I do not like him.”

That drags Kevin’s eyes away from the couple. He turns to look at Kimbay, mouth slightly open, and tries not to look too pleased. “Sorry?”

“I do not like him,” Kimbay repeats with a shrug. “There is something about him that I do not trust.” She looks at the lager in Kevin’s hand and pats his arm. “Drink up.”

Kevin doesn’t want to distract her from the topic of Steve. “What is it that you don’t like about him?”

“I don’t know,” Kimbay says, narrowing her eyes at where Steve stills Connor’s hands from fussing over his costume and leans down to kiss him. “I just would not trust him near my children.”

“He’s a guidance counsellor,” Kevin says before he can stop himself.

Kimbay snorts. “Ah. Sounds correct.” She sighs. “I always hoped Connor would end up with a nice boy like you,” she tells him, and Kevin almost chokes on his beer. Kimbay smacks him on the back as he coughs and splutters.

“We’re not -” he begins, before changing track, “Connor and I - I'm not -”

“Yes, I know, you are not gay,” Kimbay says, batting him off as if the question of his sexuality is a minor concern. “Connor has told me before. It is a shame.”

Kevin’s not really sure what to say to that. Instead, he decides to turn the topic back onto Steve’s perceived flaws. “What is it that you don’t trust?” he asks, trying to look concerned, as opposed to pleased that Kimbay clearly likes him more than Steve.

Kimbay makes another scoffing noise. “I think you do not like him either, Kevin.”

Kevin’s smile is wiped off his face. “I do too like him,” he says, and if it wasn’t for the lager, he would probably be questioning the exact moment he started talking like his third graders. He needs to start hanging out with adults more. “I introduced them, as a matter of fact.” She doesn’t need to know that it wasn’t on purpose.

Kimbay lets out a whistle. “You introduced them?” she repeats, her tone flat, disbelieving.

“Uh huh,” Kevin replies, nodding. “I think they could be quite good for each other, actually. Steve is like the anti-Connor. He’s super stable.”

“ _You_ are stable,” Kimbay mutters, and when Kevin turns to look at her, she sticks a hand up to stop him from interrupting. “I know, I know, you are not gay. Well, Kevin Price, perhaps I am wrong about him. Perhaps you are right, and he will be good for him.” She sounds sceptical, but otherwise leaves it at that.

Kevin makes a humming noise of agreement. He thinks he liked it better when Kimbay was bitching about him, but he feels that he’s done his duty as a friend. “He will be,” he says, trying to sound like he believes what he’s saying, his eyes following Connor as he stumbles away from Steve and into Naba, who greets him as if she hasn’t seen him in years as opposed to ten minutes.

Kimbay sighs. “I just do not trust him not to hurt my boy,” she says in earnest, and Kevin has to bite his lip not to smile at that. He makes a mental note to tell Connor just how motherly Kimbay sounds - then scratches it out when he realises that’s pretty much a straight up admission to gossiping about him. Kimbay looks up at him. “You may laugh, Kevin Price, but I am fond of that stupid boy.”

Kevin watches Connor as he presses a kiss to Nabulungi’s cheek, and smiles. “Yeah,” he finds himself agreeing. “You and me both, Kimbay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks guys!! <3


	4. November i.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Connor's birthday, and there's a party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy November guys! Here's almost 8k of nonsense <3

When Kevin gets home from work, Connor is sat cross-legged on the couch eating pitted olives straight from the jar. Kevin doesn't question it. 

“Wanna get pizza tonight?” he asks instead, because he's hungry and he's been thinking about Pepperoni Supremes all day. 

“Can't,” Connor says between olives, pausing the show he’s watching on Kevin’s laptop. “I'm out with Steve. I owe you ten bucks though from Halloween, don't I? Why don't you use that?” 

“Connor, I told you, the beer was a present, don’t worry about it.” Kevin knows he shouldn’t feel put out that Connor wants to spend time with his boyfriend, and he knows that he has no ownership over him, but he can’t help it - he feels jealous. He immediately feels stupid for feeling jealous too; Steve has been good for Connor. Sure, he still doesn't sleep, and sure, he probably consumes a lot more wine than water as if he's hoping to conjure some reverse miracle, but he’s started trying to go out during the day rather than crawling home at six in the morning, and he’s even started taking responsibility for things that he’s never had an interest in before. Kevin’s juice strike isn’t voluntary any more - Connor keeps picking it up. He seems happier and healthier with Steve. 

So Kevin’s really not sure why it annoys him so much.

“Yeah, but, I don’t know, go buy yourself something pretty,” Connor replies, smirking as he presses the bill into Kevin’s hand. Kevin makes to swat at him, and he ducks, leaping off the couch and heading towards his room. “I gotta get ready,” he says, and Kevin feels another pang of that weird jealousy. He’s  _ always  _ struggled with feeling jealous, ever since he was a little kid. 

It's part of that jealousy that makes him want to stall Connor more. 

“Where are you going?” he asks, picking up the jar of olives Connor has been helping himself to. He feels that if he were relaxed about this kind of thing, he’d pluck an olive out of the jar and pop it in his mouth nonchalantly. In reality, Kevin hates double dipping, and there’s always been this thing with pitted olives that makes him think of eyeballs, so he screws the lid back onto the jar and stows it back in the cupboard instead, though he tries to give this the air of nonchalance he would have dedicated to the olive-eating. 

Connor swallows the olive he’s been chewing and shrugs. “Some arthouse movie I think. It's French, I think? They’re usually French.” He tosses another olive in his mouth and sighs. “I don't know. It's not really my scene, but I'm all for sitting in the back row and making out with a pretty guy.” 

“Won’t Steve mind?” It’s a cheap shot, but Kevin can’t resist. He finger-guns Connor, who rolls his eyes so hard, Kevin thinks that his roommate has probably given himself a headache. 

The intercom rings, and Kevin, who is standing nearest to it, makes his way over to buzz Steve up. Connor looks like a deer caught in headlights for a moment, before he all but sprints to the bathroom to go clean his teeth post-olive-munching. 

When Steve arrives, all smiles and good hair, Kevin decides to busy himself making coffee in the awkward few moments they wait for Connor. 

“He's never ready,” Steve says, a sort of joke. Kevin nods in agreement, mostly out of politeness. “Oh well. I guess it takes quite a lot to beautify himself.” 

That seems slightly uncalled for. “He’s just cleaning his teeth,” Kevin says defensively, before he realises how that comes across and adds a nervous little laugh (it is  _ not _ a giggle, he tells himself) that he didn’t know he was capable of. “He’s been eating olives,” he adds, willing himself not to turn pink as Steve lets out a bark of laughter. 

“Oh,  _ thanks _ , Kev,” Connor’s voice comes from the direction of the bathroom, before his roommate appears, rolling his eyes and pouting. “Now he knows what a disgusting animal I am, eating raw olives straight from the jar.” 

“Babe, I knew you were disgusting anyway.” Steve blows Connor a kiss. Kevin glares at his coffee machine like its wronged him in a former life. “I’ll still kiss you, even with gross olive breath.” 

Kevin wrenches the grinder from the machine with a bit too much force, and knocks over his mug. There’s a loud smashing noise, and then Steve, ever the gentleman, is coming to assist him.

“Careful there, Kev,” he says, and Kevin bristles at the nickname coming from Steve’s mouth. He hasn’t earned the right to be familiar with Kevin. “You okay? I don’t want you to cut your feet on the shards.” 

“Yeah, no, I’m good,” Kevin replies hastily as Connor appears on his other side, hurrying to help him sweep up the granules. “Honestly, guys, I’m fine. Go see your movie.” He doesn’t know why he’s so clumsy, but he  _ does  _ know that Steve is winding him up something chronic, and he needs to leave. “ _ Go _ ,” he adds emphatically to Connor, who gives him one last concerned look. “Seriously, it’s quicker if I clean it up myself. Then I know I’ll do it right.” 

Connor gets the hint. He bites his lip, looking as if he doesn’t really want to leave, but then nods and puts on a big smile for Steve’s benefit. “Come on, then, hon. Let’s go be cultured.” 

“See you later, Kev,” Steve says, and Kevin makes a non-committal noise as he reaches to sweep up the shards on the floor. He hears Steve ask Connor “How’s your French?” and Connor replying “Well, my kissing’s a ten”, and then, thankfully, the door swings shut behind them before Kevin has to suffer the mental image of his roommate jumping his colleague plaguing his mind. Not because of any particular reason, but because he’s not a massive Steve fan, and  _ obviously  _ the idea of Connor kissing people is weird. 

Right?

\--- 

Kevin is just finishing up writing up some flashcard pairs for his third graders’ English lesson tomorrow when his phone starts ringing. 

“Hello?” 

_ “Hi, love,” _ Kevin’s mother’s voice comes through the other end of the phone. Her voice sounds tinny through the receiver.  _ “How are you doing, sweetheart?” _

Kevin smiles slightly. “Hi, Mom,” he greets. He gives the coffee he’s been nursing for the past half hour a slightly guilty look and pushes it slightly further across the table away from him. “I’m good, I’m good. How’re you? How’s Dad?” 

_ “Sad that you won’t be able to make it to Thanksgiving, darling, but otherwise we’re doing just fine, thanks!” _ she chirps, and Kevin feels a stab of guilt. He just lives too far to be able to drop everything and get to Utah and back without missing any school. A practical Kevin had decided that for him back in March time, and even impractical, impulsive, wants-to-spend-Thanksgiving-eating-Mom’s-turkey-dinner Kevin has to admit that the flights are just too expensive for him to justify buying a ticket now. So he’s staying in New York, desperately trying to glean from his friends who is going home and who is staying around. He knows Nabulungi will be here, and seeing as she and Arnold are joint at the hip, he at least is safe in the knowledge that he probably will have his very best friend for company at some point during the day.  _ “I wish I could mail you some turkey dinner, darling.”  _

“I wish you could too,” Kevin replies, and if his voice is a little whiny, it’s only because Mrs. Price does the best turkey dinner in the whole wide world, and not because Kevin is an enormous Mommy’s boy. “Is everyone going to be there?” 

_ “Your sister can’t get away from work either,” _ she tells him, and Kevin feels at least pleased that he’s not the only one missing out. He gets huge FOMO whenever he can’t attend a family dinner, but then again, it was  _ his  _ idea to move halfway across the country.  _ “Jack’ll just have to eat your fill!” _

Kevin pouts at that, and considers shooting Jack a text to tell him that he’s a bastard (in a loving way, of course). “If he’s sick again, tell him I told him so.”

_ “Don’t be revolting, Kevin,” _ his mother chastises, although she’s chuckling, and Kevin grins.  _ “How will you be spending the holiday?” _

“Oh, you know, just meeting with a couple friends, eating and dr-” Kevin searches for a moment to find something to say that isn’t  _ drinking _ , because his mother still doesn’t know that he’s even seen alcohol before, and that’s a conversation he’d rather never have at all. “Eating,” he finishes lamely. 

If his mother has picked up on his hesitation, she doesn’t show it.  _ “Oh, that sounds lovely, darling,” _ she tells him.  _ “Have you heard about Jack’s new job, by the way? From what he says, it sounds like he’s doing very well -” _

Of course it’s at this moment that an obnoxiously loud laugh sounds outside, and Kevin barely has a chance to scramble to his feet and take his cell off speakerphone as the key turns in the lock and Connor, Arnold, Nabulungi and Sadaka stumble through the door, Arnold still laughing.

“Shut  _ up _ , Arnold,” Connor says, and his voice is so loud, Kevin hears it echo in the receiver from where it has clearly carried through to his mother. “My sex life is  _ none  _ of your concern. Kevin! Kevin, did you get my text, is my wine in the refrig-” He cuts himself off suddenly as he sees Kevin waving frantically at him.

_ “Kevin?” _ his mother’s voice comes through the other end of the phone, sounding startled.  _ “Kevin? Are you there?” _

“Yeah, Mom, sorry, it's my neighbours being loud,” Kevin says, giving his friends a pointed look. Sadaka looks ready to fight at being called a neighbour, but Nabulungi clicks fastest, and slams the door behind them, trying to make a noise that could conceivably have been caused by next door’s apartment. She claps a hand over Arnold’s mouth before he can let out his nervous-surprised laugh, and gives Kevin an encouraging smile. 

_ “I thought someone said your name,” _ Kevin’s mother says suspiciously, and Kevin flounders a moment before deciding to settle for teasing her instead. 

“I think you're hearing things, Ma,” Kevin replies, and he grins as she makes a noise of rebuttal. “Listen, anyway, I gotta go.” 

_ “Okay, sweetheart, if you're sure. And are you certain you can't get to Utah?” _

“Positive, Mom. I'm sorry.” 

_ “No, no, darling, don't be sorry,” _ his mother tells him, although Kevin feels somewhat guilty. He pouts before he can stop himself.  _ “Anyway, sweetheart, we’ll chat soon. Keep being a star! Love you.”  _

“Love you too, Mom.” Kevin pointedly ignores his horribly immature friends who snicker at him for showing affection as if they are teenagers, and hangs up the phone. “You almost landed me in deep shit,” he tells them in an affronted voice. 

“Oh, did Mommy almost find out you’re not the Super Mormon she raised?” Connor asks, mock-sympathy saturating his voice. “You’re an adult, Kevin. Mommy can’t ground you anymore. She’s not going to be angry.” 

“Just disappointed,” Nabulungi chimes in, and then beams delightedly as Connor high-fives her for backing up his little skit. 

Kevin glares at the pair of them. “I expected betrayal from you, McKinley, but  _ you _ , Hatimbi? Shocked.” 

Nabulungi blows him a kiss in the most Connor-like display of teasing Kevin has ever seen, and he suddenly becomes slightly more understanding of how these two are best friends. Connor grins at her like she is the most beautiful human he has ever seen (and Kevin has to say she probably  _ is  _ one of the most beautiful humans he has ever seen, in fairness to him).

“How’s your mom?” Connor asks, flopping onto the sofa between Sadaka and Arnold, leaning against Sadaka heavily. She pops her arm around him and looks up at Kevin interestedly.

“I think she’s devastated I’m not going to be in Utah for Thanksgiving, if I’m honest,” Kevin replies, sitting next to Nabulungi on the floor and leaning against Arnold’s legs. “I hate school.” 

“No you don’t.” Nabulungi nudges his arm playfully. 

“You’re right, I don’t,” Kevin sighs. “I just hate the fact that Utah is so far away and Jack’s gonna eat my dinner.” He drags a hand through his hair. “Are you guys going home at all?” 

“We do not celebrate Thanksgiving in Uganda, so my family do not here either,” Sadaka tells him, poking his shoulder with her foot. “Besides, my father is at work. He is a doctor. He does not get a break just because you are celebrating. Sick people do not stop being sick just because it is a holiday.” 

Kevin blushes slightly as he considers what a stupid question that must have been. He looks up at Arnold. “What about you, Arn?” 

“I guess I might stay here,” he tells him, and Kevin beams. “I don’t wanna leave my best friend on his own for Thanksgiving, when he’s what I’m most thankful for.” 

“Aww, Arn,” Kevin says, almost cooing from how touched he is, as Nabulungi lets out an exasperated noise.

“Oh, and you are not thankful for me?” she asks, scoffing. 

“Well, I mean, yeah, sure I am,” Arnold replies, reaching his hand out to clasp hers (they decide to lock fingers across Kevin’s chest, making him feel like they’re forming some sort of human seatbelt), “but Kev makes really great turkey dinner, so I’m just getting us a seat at the table, Naba.” 

“I guess I’m still touched,” Kevin says after a considered moment, leaning further back into his best friend’s legs to try and breathe as Nabulungi and Arnold continue fondling each other’s hands. He looks up at Connor, who raises an eyebrow.

“Do not,” Connor says, before Kevin can even ask him if he’s going back home. “The only way you’re getting me to set foot in Ohio ever again is with a gun to my head, and even then, I’m not sure I’d go for it.”

“So you’re here?” Kevin tries not to sound too excited by this revelation.

“ _ Yes _ , I’m here,” Connor replies, rolling his eyes. “As if I’d abandon your sorry ass on Thanksgiving.” He takes a sip of wine (because of  _ course  _ he’s had time to pour himself a glass) and then points as if he’s remembered something. “Oh, also because you know, my boyfriend’s here and I love him. I said that first, if he asks.” 

Kevin feels his mood sour slightly, until he decides that it’s okay, because the way Connor phrased this just now, it sounds like Kevin himself was Connor’s primary reason for staying. He knows that in reality this is probably not the case, but he can always pretend. 

“Then I guess I’m cooking for six then, including Steve,” Kevin says after a moment. Arnold and Nabulungi both pat him appreciatively on the shoulder, Arnold knocking a cushion down from the couch and onto Kevin’s head. Kevin pulls it into his lap and leans forward, glad to have been released from their grasps. “Sadaka, I don’t care if you hate it. I’m not being the fifth wheel. You’re helping me browse cat adoption websites after this lot go off to go get frisky.” 

“ _ Get frisky _ ,” Connor repeats with a snort. “God, I can’t believe I’m friends with such an absolute  _ loser  _ -” 

He’s cut off when Kevin hits him in the face with the cushion. 

\---

“Price,” Nabulungi yells by way of greeting as Kevin enters the staffroom that Monday morning. “Come here.” 

“Hello to you too,” Kevin replies grumpily. Nabulungi tsks, and then pushes a takeaway cup of coffee towards him. Kevin grumbles, but in truth, all is forgiven. “What's up?” 

“It is Connor’s birthday next week,” Nabulungi tells him matter-of-factly. 

“I know,” Kevin says. “He's told me that he wants absolutely no celebrations. He's all,  _ oh God, Kevin, this is not an age to celebrate anything, this is so awful, I’m so wrinkly, I'm going to die. _ ” Kevin thinks his impression of Connor is pretty good. 

Nabulungi doesn't look that impressed. “He refused?” 

“Categorically.” 

“But you have planned something?” 

“Of course I have.” 

Nabulungi grins. “You were right to. His dramatics might be bad now. Wait until you misread them and he is flopping about because he thinks that nobody loves him.” 

Kevin smiles fondly. “I anticipated that categorical refusal meant that he wanted me to push the boat out. I've invited his friend Chris from home to come stay.” 

“Oooh, that is a good idea,” Sadaka’s voice joins the conversation, followed shortly by her plonking herself down in the seat next to Kevin. She’s still wearing her outdoors gear, and looks cute bundled up in the colourful scarf and hat combination she’s put on. “He talks of this Chris all of the time. I think he may well be in love with him.” 

“He’s not in love with him,” Kevin says quickly, then wonders why he felt the need to say that. Both Sadaka and Nabulungi grin at him, and he blushes slightly. “What?” he says defensively. “He’s not. He has Steve.” And isn’t that just a wrench. Kevin looks around suddenly, as if Steve might be able to hear his thoughts. 

“Relax,” Sadaka says, patting Kevin’s arm. “He is not here. You are sweet though, thinking of his feelings.” 

Kevin is absolutely not thinking of Steve’s feelings, but pretends he is nonetheless, nodding sagely. “Well,” he says, and pretends to harrumph. Sadaka’s grin is glittering, so he decides to turn to Nabulungi instead, if not just because she is certain to be nicer to him. “Have you met Chris before, then?” he asks her, because he’s interested, and not just because he’s trying to change the subject.

Nabulungi grins. “I have met him a few times,” she tells him. “I like him. You will like him too, I think. He is quite full on though.” 

“More so than Connor?” Kevin is dubious.

Nabulungi shrugs. “A fair point.” 

Kevin grins. “So I was thinking, party at Kimbay’s? I spoke to her to ask her if she wanted to come to ours, but she insisted on using the cafe. Ghali’s on board too. He’s baking him a special cake, apparently.” 

Nabulungi’s eyes light up at that. “That boy is an excellent cook,” she tells them both, before nodding. “Ah, he will love this. This is a good idea.” She takes a sip of coffee and looks forlornly at the clock. “Ah, it is almost time to go in. We are painting today for the play.” 

“How is that going?” asks Sadaka with a grin. “What exactly are you painting?” 

“We will paint some flags first, I think,” Nabulungi tells her, and she gives them both a teasingly exasperated expression that Kevin knows all too well. It graces his face about five times a day. “We have a month still for the set decorations but I think I will get Connor to help me with that.” 

“Not such an artistic flair in your class?” Kevin asks, smiling. 

Nabulungi raises an eyebrow. “Too much flair if you ask me.” She sighs. “I just want this play to go well, you know? It is important to me. I think the kids are enjoying it so far, although when Kimbay came in to help the other day, she knocked over a box and swore in Swahili, and now the kids want to know what that means. It is a nightmare when you have kids repeating words that would make your mother blush.” 

“And by your mother, she means yours, Kevin,” Sadaka adds, a teasing twinkle in her eye. “My mother would not bat an eyelid.”

Kevin, whose mother once squeaked because he had accidentally said ass instead of bottom, doesn’t doubt this for a second. 

\---

Kevin meets Christopher Thomas for the first time the afternoon before Connor’s birthday. To really surprise him, they’ve decided to throw his party a day early, so he can celebrate at midnight. The fact that it’s a Friday today and so they’ve got the whole weekend to celebrate and recuperate is just an added bonus.

He arrives at JFK an hour and a half early, but Kevin still spends the whole journey there panicking that he might be late. When he inevitably finds he has a tonne of time to kill when he finally gets to Arrivals, he ends up necking coffee out of nervousness, meaning that he has to pee when Chris’s flight is due in. He’s practically hopping from leg to leg when he is finally approached by a short blond man with a cheeky grin and a suitcase that looks almost as big as him. 

“Are you Kevin?” he asks. Kevin nods and offers him a hand to shake. Chris smiles this big warm smile that makes Kevin feel slightly less stressed than he has been, and pulls him into a hug. “You okay? You look super stressed. Connor said you were a stressed out kinda guy, but I thought he was just exaggerating.”

“Glad to know Connor’s been telling you about all my character flaws,” Kevin replies, although actually there’s a small part of him that’s quite pleased that Connor’s talking about Kevin at all outside of their mutual friends. 

Chris grins. “Don’t worry, he also told me you were the most beautiful guy he’d ever seen in real life apart from that guy Ghali he works with and the one time he thought he saw George Clooney on Main Street in Disney when he was like fourteen.”

Kevin tries not to look too pleased. He’s not sure what he’s more pleased about either - the fact that he’s on a list with George Clooney, or the fact that Steve isn’t. Maybe there’s something to this, but Kevin’s always liked being important, and he especially likes being more important than people he doesn’t like. “How was your flight?” he asks Chris instead, reaching to take the suitcase from him.

Chris shrugs. “I was sat next to a crying baby,” he says, and Kevin cringes. “It wasn’t so much the baby that was the issue as it was the obnoxious businessman on my other side, either. Like, the baby was cute. The baby can’t help crying. The businessman can help being a total cock.” 

They stop for coffee (and for Kevin to use the bathroom), and then Chris insists that they hit Walmart before they get back to Kevin’s apartment, because it turns out that he has an unhealthy obsession with Pop-Tarts, and he can’t wait until tomorrow to have one when he’s had such a ‘traumatic flight’ (to be fair to him, the businessman he was stuck next to does sound like a colossal jerk). 

“What’s your favourite flavour of Pop-Tart?” Chris asks Kevin as he all but jumps to try and reach one of the packets on the top shelf in the aisle. 

“Chocolate chip cookie dough?” Kevin says in a slightly questioning tone, as he reaches over Chris and passes the particular box he was after.

“Wrong,” Chris replies, though he accepts the box gratefully and tosses it into the basket. “The correct answer is  _ all _ flavours of Pop-Tarts. Connor’s favourite is the blueberry one, though, and that upsets me, because if there was one flavour that had to go, it’s that one.” He grimaces. 

Kevin doesn’t really like Pop-Tarts all that much (or really anything sweet - he doesn’t have such a sweet tooth), but he has to agree with Chris on that one. “You sure do like Pop-Tarts, huh?” 

Chris grins. “They call me Poptarts back home. I can’t decide if I love or hate it. I was called Elder Poptarts on my mission, too.  _ That _ I loved.”

All in all, Kevin decides he quite likes Chris. He can see why Connor would love him so much. He’s a ray of sunshine burning bright, and he has his head screwed on, even if he does have a penchant for buying Pop-Tarts (Kevin’s estimating that they’re about to blow twenty dollars on sugary snacks that he doesn’t even eat himself). He actually seems quite no nonsense, despite the fact that he’s bubbly and kind.

“I’m a nurse,” Chris tells him when Kevin asks what he does, and Kevin thinks that that explains a lot. He can imagine Chris being an absolutely brilliant nurse. He has the personality for it. “I’m a specialist in paediatric oncology. Oh,  _ hello,  _ is that a deal on Oreos?” he adds, pushing past Kevin to go and investigate. 

They leave Walmart seventeen dollars and thirty three cents poorer than they came, and then head back to Kevin and Connor’s apartment to go and get ready. “So what’s this Steve guy like?” Chris asks Kevin curiously the minute Kevin steps out of the bathroom, towel drying his hair. He hopes Chris doesn’t judge his hair in this state - it has a tendency to go fluffy before he has a chance to attack it with product. 

“He’s a guidance counsellor,” Kevin replies, as if that explains Steve’s entire personality and is substantial enough of a clue towards what kind of a person Chris’s best friend is dating.

Chris raises an eyebrow. “I’ve been out of school a long time, Kevin,” he says in a pointed sort of way. “That means nothing to me. What’s he  _ like _ ? Is he nice? Is he handsome?” 

Predictably, Kevin pulls a face at the idea of Steve being handsome. “He’s alright,” he says with a shrug. “He’s blond.” 

“Good start,” Chris says, gesturing to himself with a cheeky looking grin. Kevin gets the impression that Chris is a cheeky sort of guy. “Blonds have more fun. Is he nice?” 

“He’s fine,” Kevin replies with a shrug. Chris looks questioning, and Kevin struggles to continue, “he’s like, super polite and everything. He’s every mother’s dream.” 

“Not Connor’s mother,” Chris mutters with a wry snort, and then looks at Kevin as if he shouldn’t have said it, but at the same time doesn’t entirely regret it. 

“You know his family?” Kevin asks, because he can’t keep his curiosity to himself. He doesn’t know much about Connor’s life back in Ohio, but he knows that his familial situation is obviously rough enough that the only was he’d go back is  _ at gunpoint, Kevin, seriously, so will you please stop going on about it and let me stay out of that god awful place, hon.  _ Kevin might be nosey, and he’s not always the best at reading social cues, but he’s decided that pressing Connor too much on that one seems like an awful idea.

Chris nods and sighs. “Unfortunately,” he replies as he fiddles with the fraying edge of the throw on the couch (that action makes Kevin’s teeth itch, so he trains his eyes on Chris’s face to combat the feeling). “We don’t talk anymore though. They’re toxic. Connor’s better off without them, to be honest. Doesn’t mean it’s not shit for him though.” He looks Kevin up and down. “You gonna go sort your hair out or what?” he asks, and then his face splits into a grin as Kevin turns slightly pink. “Come the fuck on, Kevin, we haven’t got all day. I want you to tell me at least three embarrassing stories about Connor so I can psych him out when he gets there.” 

\---

“You’ve outdone yourself, Kimbay,” Kevin tells Connor’s boss as they survey her café. She’s moved all of the tables to the side like she did for her Halloween lock-in, but she’s also managed to create a display of embarrassing photos from the past twenty-five years of his life courtesy of Nabulungi and Chris. Kevin looks at a picture of Chris and Connor at about age three or four, Chris beaming proudly with a toy stethoscope round his neck next to a Connor he’s practically mummified with toilet paper. The picture next to it is of Connor at age seven, mid-jete in what looks to be someone’s living room (Kevin imagines it must be Chris’s - he doubts Connor has access to his childhood photos his own family have probably collected). Kevin looks at them and smiles warmly. “He was a cute kid, wasn’t he?” 

Kimbay laughs. “Look at this one, this is my favourite,” she says, pointing to one of Connor and Chris at about fourteen. Kevin almost chokes on the snort that comes out. 

“Are you looking at our emo phase?” Chris asks as he sidles up next to Kevin, grinning. “Honestly, my parents were so relaxed. We used to lie on my bed and listen to music Connor’s parents would have had a fit about if they found out and share crappy poetry. It was a dark time.” 

Next to the emo photo is one of Nabulungi giving Connor a piggyback from a few years ago, where both of them seem to be struggling to stay upright from laughing so hard. There’s one of Chris and Connor from a Christmas one year, both with pink cheeks and bobble hats, one of Kimbay and Ghali selfie-ing with Connor asleep under a pile of coats in the guestbook booth. Kevin smiles, thinking about how loved this odd little ball of energy is. 

Then he sees one from Halloween that he’s completely forgotten about. Nabulungi took it, and it features himself, Connor and Arnold, Arnold and Connor kissing one of his cheeks each. Arnold’s Harry Potter scar has smudged all over his forehead, resembling a bruise more than anything else, and Connor looks like he’s desperately trying not to laugh, his Ziggy Stardust makeup still very much in tact. Kevin himself is winking. It’s a lovely photo, and not just because Kevin’s hair looks absolutely on point (although he has to admit, that does help to contribute to Kevin’s happiness when he looks at it). Kevin is going to ask Nabulungi for a copy when she gets a chance. 

Annoyingly, there’s several of Connor and Steve together that Kevin pointedly ignores as he continues to compliment Kimbay’s decorations, when Nabulungi shouts out. “Ghali’s just texted me!” she tells everyone in a loud voice. “They are around the corner. Everyone get into position!” 

Kevin grins at Kimbay and pushes Chris to the centre of the group. Chris lets him, but then he reaches out and grabs Kevin’s sleeve, pulling him with him. “You organised it, numb nuts,” he says when Kevin gives him a questioning look.

Nabulungi flips the lights off, and then the door swings open, and Connor’s voice comes through. 

“Come  _ on,  _ Ghal, hurry up and grab your dumb jacket, and we can go get the others,” he’s saying, and Kevin sees Ghali and Steve both push him through the door. “If you don’t think I’m getting absolutely white girl wasted tonight, you’ve both got another thing coming -”

“SURPRISE!” 

The lights flip on, and Connor looks like he might be about to have a heart attack, eyes wide as he clutches at his chest. “What the -” he begins, before his gaze lands on Chris and his eyes widen even more. “What - how -” he stammers, and it’s adorable how he resembles a goldfish. “You’re in Ohio,” he says accusingly, and Chris grins. “What the fuck are you doing here?!” 

“Ah, I heard you were gonna be old as balls, darl, and I thought I’d better get over,” Chris replies, and Connor continues to stare at him like he’s grown an extra head, before his face splits into an enormous grin, and suddenly he’s launching himself at his oldest friend.

It’s so sweet to see the tight hug they pull each other into, almost toppling over, and Kevin can’t even bring himself to feel jealous. Maybe he’s starting to get over his jealousy issues. His eyes flicker over to Steve over Connor’s shoulder, and he quickly realises that this isn’t the case. 

“We are going to celebrate your last few hours of being in your early twenties, Connor,” Kimbay tells him, and Connor looks up at her with a horrified expression, before he looks over at Kevin, Arnold and Nabulungi. 

“Which one of you betrayed me?” he asks, and the three of them laugh. He finally lets go of Chris and takes a step back. “God, this is… how did you organise this all without me noticing? How did you organise it with _ out  _ me?” 

“Kevin’s as weirdly obsessed with planning as you are, dude,” Chris tells him in reply, and Connor looks up at Kevin, and gives him a look that makes Kevin’s insides do a funny little dance.

“You organised this?” he asks. Kevin nods. 

“Happy birthday,” he replies, and Connor’s smile is radiant.

\---

“Is this weird for you?” Arnold asks Nabulungi a little later in the evening as they watch Connor and Chris dance, because he’s curious, and has never really had any indication of boundaries. Nabulungi raises a questioning an eyebrow. “Is it like the missus and the ex situation? Like, you’re his best friend now, and he’s like the best friend from before.” 

Nabulungi looks at him a moment, then laughs and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Not at all,” she tells him, and Kevin feels a warm feeling spread across his chest just from watching the way Arnold lights up from her attention. They are sickeningly cute, and Kevin is incredibly jealous, but neither of those feelings stop him from feeling all warm and happy from seeing his best friend exude unadulterated joy. “In fact, Chris and I get on very well. I am sure if he lived in New York,  _ we _ would be the best friends, and Connor would be the one left out.” She’s clearly joking.

Arnold doesn’t seem to understand that. “Really?” he asks, looking horrified, and sending Connor a pitying expression. Connor catches his eye at that moment, looks concerned, and then widens his eyes at Kevin, mouthing a  _ what?  _ and wiping at his face self-consciously. Kevin grins. 

“What do you think of him, Kevin?” Nabulungi asks, nudging him with the point of her elbow. 

“He’s just like Connor,” Kevin comments, and Nabulungi nods, “only he’s like, more down to Earth. He’s a Connor with less time for people’s nonsense. Less of a moth,” he adds, remembering the description she’d given him when he’d first demanded why she hadn’t revealed he was a Mormon. That seems like an eternity ago now. 

“That is exactly what he is like,” Nabulungi agrees, laughing, and she leans against Kevin’s shoulder with her arms folded across her chest, watching her best friend twirl Chris. Kevin gets that warm feeling again that he gets when he sees Arnold happy, although there’s an extra flutter in his chest when Connor looks up again and grins at him. Okay, maybe he likes making people happy too. Shoot him. There’s nothing unusual about that. 

“What are we talking about, gang?” a voice from nearby comes in, and Kevin feels that fluttering feeling get crushed immediately. He’s forgotten all about Steve, and he’s annoyed at himself for it. Then he’s annoyed for even  _ feeling  _ annoyed at all, because Steve has every right to be here at his boyfriend’s surprise birthday. Steve isn’t a bad person. 

Kevin just can’t warm to him, no matter how hard he tries. 

Luckily, Sadaka isn’t far behind him, and Kevin uses her as an excuse to peel away from the group, making an excuse about how she owes him a drink. Steve claps him on the shoulder in a friendly way, and if Kevin grimaces, nobody comments.

He’s about to reach Sadaka when Connor appears at his side and grabs his sleeve. “Come on,” he orders, grinning. “We’re dancing.” 

“We’re what?” 

Connor rolls his eyes. “ _ Dancing,  _ Kevin,” he replies in a faux-exasperated tone as Kimbay reaches Sadaka over his shoulder. “It’s what human beings do to celebrate sometimes. You know celebrating, right? Merriment and joy?”

Kevin sticks his tongue out at Connor, but lets him drag him onto the dancefloor anyway. Kimbay is now dancing with Sadaka next to them on the left, and Arnold appears to have left Nabulungi and Steve and is currently teaching Ghali how to do a very provocative dance move on their right that Kevin one hundred percent believes his best friend doesn’t understand the significance of. 

“Are you having a good time?” Kevin asks Connor over the music, and Connor nods, giving Kevin a smile that lights up his whole face. 

“I can’t believe you got Chris out here,” he says, and he gives Kevin’s arm a squeeze. “I thought that he was bogged down with work when I phoned him last week. You have no idea how much this means to me.” 

“We planned it a while ago,” Kevin admits, grinning as Connor pretends to swat him. “We wanted you to be seriously surprised.” 

“I  _ am _ seriously surprised!” Connor replies, laughing. “I can’t believe you pulled it off. I can  _ always  _ spot a surprise coming. I’ve got, like, a sixth sense for it.” 

“Might wanna get that sense tested,” Kevin says, and then adds, “I know a good nurse if you wanted his number. He’s paediatric, mind, and you’ve just turned  _ real  _ old -” 

“Shut  _ up, _ ” Connor whines, and Kevin grins good-naturedly. Connor’s not exactly turning very old - he’s still a long way off thirty, even - but Kevin’s very happy to tease. He knows Connor will repay the favour. “I genuinely thought he might not - Steve said that you know, I had to expect - well like, you know, you drift away from people, and -” 

Connor’s rambling from his happiness (and probably from the prosecco he’s just necked), but Kevin frowns. “Steve said what?” he asks, putting his hands on Connor’s shoulders for a moment, looking at the redhead with a serious expression. Connor rolls his eyes and drops his head back. “That Chris might not care anymore?” 

“I know now he was just trying to keep the surprise!” Connor says brightly, and then he pulls Kevin’s hands off of his shoulders and out in front of him to try and twirl him. “God, I am so lucky. I don’t deserve to be so lucky.” 

“You deserve the world, Connor McKinley,” Kevin replies, and it comes out a bit more forcefully than he’d intended, but Connor gives him another radiant smile, and Kevin is so glad that his roommate is enjoying himself. 

Of course Steve can’t wait for them to finish dancing before he cuts in, and Connor falls into his boyfriend’s side, laughing and clutching at his shirt. “I need to sit down,” he informs them both, and Steve tries to exchange a mirthful glance with Kevin as he hoists him up, ready to lead him over to a seat. 

Just before they leave though, Connor turns to Kevin once more.

“Thank you so much, Kevin Price,” he tells him in earnest. “Losing my old apartment is the best worst thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

“You’re, er, welcome, I guess?” Kevin replies, and Connor rolls his eyes, pushes away from Steve and presses a kiss to Kevin’s cheek, before he stumbles back to his boyfriend again. 

“Come on, handsome,” he says to Steve, and the couple stagger away, leaving Kevin standing there, pressing his fingers against his cheek, utterly baffled but entirely pleased.

\---

They get a taxi home, which Kimbay insists she pay for. “I want my boys to get home safe,” she tells Kevin and Connor when they insist they can walk. Connor gives her a massive hug, and she pets his hair. “Go on, you drunk idiot. Go home and enjoy your birthday hangover.” 

Steve comes home with them, and while Connor insists that he can sleep on the couch so that he and Chris can spoon, Chris and Kevin exchange a look and shake their heads. 

“I’ll crash in Kevin’s room, Con,” Chris insists, and that’s how they end up blowing up an air mattress at half four in the morning. 

When Kevin finally gets into bed that evening, he thinks it won’t be long until he falls asleep. His head is buzzing, his heart thrumming. He feels like he’s underwater, loud music still ringing in his ears, the kiss Connor pressed to his cheek still burning against his skin. It’s funny, really, how important Connor’s becoming to him. Back in September, he never thought Connor McKinley would become a fundamental part of his life, integral to his every day existence.

He’s falling asleep when a voice cuts into his foggy thoughts.

“Hey, Kevin.” 

Kevin opens his eyes and rolls his head to the side to look in Chris’s vague direction. “Yeah?” 

He hears Chris shift in his sleeping bag, the air mattress making a funny squashing noise. “Do you like Steve?” 

Kevin is guarded, because he knows what best friends are like. He knows that if someone were to say something horrible about Nabulungi, he would immediately warn Arnold to stay away from them. He knows that there are no secrets between best friends, and bitching about one’s partner to another seems like a dangerous game. “I introduced them,” he says, because that’s his go to guarded answer. 

Chris snorts. “That’s not an answer,” he tells him, and Kevin curses mentally that Chris sees through his go-to tactic as easily as Kimbay had. “I don’t like him,” Chris continues before Kevin can come up with an excuse.

“You don’t?” This feels almost as gratifying as when Kimbay said it. Kevin feels awful for getting a kick out of it. 

“Look, I’m not gonna bitch about him,” Chris says with a sigh, and Kevin thinks about what a fundamentally good guy Christopher Thomas is. “I’m kind of overprotective when it comes to Connor. He’s had a shit time of it, and I’m always gonna be on the defensive about him letting new people into his life. Life shits all over Connor, and it’s not fair.” 

Kevin doesn’t really know what to say. Is Chris wary of Kevin? He wants to ask, but he’s not sure how to phrase it. 

Luckily, Chris reads his silence and snorts. “Don’t worry,” he says, and Kevin can hear the amusement in his voice. “You passed the test. Just about. I’m joking,” he adds, when Kevin begins to turn over what he means in his mind. “I can hear you overthinking from here.” There’s a crumpling noise, and a shadow moves across the floor. Chris must be stretching out in the bed. “God, you two are similar. I thought Connor was the most anxious person I knew.” 

Kevin’s a little struck by that. He’s not sure he’s ever considered Connor to be an anxious person. “I’m protective of him too, I guess,” he admits, because he is. He knows he is. He just wants Connor McKinley to be happy. “He seems happy though, with Steve. Steve’s been good for him.” 

“Has he?” Chris sounds unconvinced. He sighs again. “Look,” he says, and Kevin hears him slap his hands down either side of him. “I might be being a little paranoid, but I just. There’s something fake about him. And you know, Connor might put up this huge blasé front, and pretend he’s all bulletproof and invincible and carefree, but he’s fragile, okay?” Another sigh distends across the darkness. “Don’t tell him I said that. He’ll be livid.” 

“I won’t,” Kevin replies, and he smiles a little to himself that Chris so clearly adores his best friend. 

Chris sighs heavily again. “He’s been through a whole lot, Kevin. Just, look out for him, okay? I can’t bear for him to be hurt again.” 

Kevin nods, then realises Chris can’t see him. “Of course I will.” 

“Good,” Chris says. He says nothing more for a while, then adds, “I’m glad he has you, you know. You and Naba and Arnold. You’re a good bunch. And that Sadaka is a legend as well. I like her.” 

“She’s great,” Kevin agrees, smiling fondly as he thinks back to Sadaka trying to teach him a Ugandan dance that evening and laughing as he stepped on her toes. 

Chris’s voice clearly indicates he’s smiling as he replies. “It makes me happy to know he’s got you all when I can’t be there for him. Especially Nabulungi.” He sighs, and Kevin smiles to himself, before Chris continues. “But you, Kevin Price? You’re something special. He likes you a lot, I can tell. So I guess that means I’ll have to like you too.” 

“Well, I  _ am  _ flattered,” Kevin jokes, although to be honest, he is. Connor likes Steve, but Chris hasn’t extended his warmth to him. 

“Just look after him, okay?” Chris says again. “Otherwise I’ll walk over from Cleveland and throttle you myself.” 

Kevin grins. “With a threat like that, how can I refuse?” 

He’s joking, mostly. He thinks Chris is joking, mostly. But there’s a part of him who thinks this five foot seven paediatric nurse whose blood is probably more sugar than it is water would genuinely trek across states to protect Connor McKinley. 

Kevin can’t blame him. He’d probably do the same.


	5. November ii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Thanksgiving, and some things change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi my dears! Hope you're all having a lovely week! Thank you all for the amazing response so far; your comments and kudos honestly make me smile so much and brighten my day. 
> 
> Here's some more nonsense <3

Kevin wakes up to a persistent buzzing noise cutting through the air that even pulling his pillow over his head can’t drown out.

From the floor, Kevin can hear Chris groaning. “The fuck is that?” he grumbles, and as Kevin sits up, the pillow falling from his lap and landing on Chris’s face, he realises it’s the intercom.

“It’s the door,” Kevin tells him, dragging a hand across his tired eyes and combing his fingers through his hair as he grabs a hoodie to sling on and heads for the door, not missing how Chris kicks his duvet over his face to try and drown out the noise.

Connor has also stumbled into the living room, looking like death warmed up. He’s wearing the shirt Steve had been dressed in yesterday, and Kevin blames the hangover for the sickening feeling that thought brings. “Who the hell is that?” Connor croaks, blinking blearily up at Kevin as they both make for the door, Kevin picking up the receiver. “Don’t they know how early it is?”

 _“It is half past twelve, Connor James McKinley, and we have reservations for dinner this evening,”_ comes Nabulungi’s tinny voice through the intercom, and both of them grin, Connor rolling his eyes, before they both wince at the shrill giggle that cuts through indicating Arnold’s presence. _“We have a birthday to celebrate!”_

“Can you just get them a key cut please?” Connor asks Kevin as Kevin pushes the button to let their friends up. “I can’t cope.”

“How’s your head?” Kevin asks, and Connor rests his forehead against Kevin’s back in response, groaning. Kevin grins. “Mine too.”

“It was a good night last night, wasn’t it?” comes Steve’s voice, and Kevin takes a deep breath.

“Oh,” he says, trying to sound enthusiastic and failing miserably, “you’re still here. Great.”

“Morning, Kev,” Steve says, pulling Connor off from where he’s leaning against Kevin’s back and pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s lips. “Morning, babe. Happy birthday.”

Connor puts his arms around Steve’s neck, and they look all gross and coupley and Kevin hates it so instead decides to go and wake Chris up, purely out of resentment. If Kevin has to suffer through this PDA, Chris does too.

Kevin starts making everyone coffee (Arnold, Connor and Chris all abstain due to religious grounds, however crumbly and infirm those foundations might be, so really it’s just for himself, Nabulungi and Steve) as Nabulungi all but squeezes the life out of Connor as she hugs him.

“Open your card!” Nabulungi says as she forces a silvery envelope into the redhead’s hands, and Connor looks up at her with a slightly bewildered expression.

“Okay,” he says, and begins to tear into the envelope. When he opens the card, his eyes widen as a set of tickets fall out onto his lap. “How much did this cost?” he asks, voice alarmed as he looks between Nabulungi and Arnold, both of whom are giggling, and the tickets to the show they’ve bought him. “Stalls seats? This must have cost a fortune, oh my God -”

“I know a guy,” says Arnold with a shrug, and when everyone looks at him suspiciously, his eyes widen. “Wait, no, I mean, I genuinely know a guy who is really good at scoring last minute tickets, and, well, I don’t know.” He laughs nervously. “We wanted you to have a good birthday, so we split the money - me, Naba, Chris, Kevin and Steve.” Arnold neglects to mention that he paid substantially more than anyone else, owing to the fact that he owns the most money. However, that’s Arnold to a T. He is so incredibly generous when it comes to his friends.

Connor looks at each of them in turn with wide eyes before his face splits into a grin. “You _guys_ ,” he says, punching Kevin hard in the arm and then pressing a kiss to Nabulungi’s cheek. “Thank you so much. This is insane. This is the best birthday ever.”

“Now go and get scrubbed up,” she says, patting a grumpy-looking Chris on the shoulder. “We have to make our reservations before we go to the show.”

“Where are we going?” Connor asks, and Kevin bites back a grin at the way he’s almost bouncing in his seat from excitement. He looks down at the tickets in his lap as if they are going to disappear, and he has a grip on Steve’s upper arm that looks like it might be painful. “Guys, this is just… this is too much.”

“Connor, you deserve the world,” Steve tells him, and Kevin, even through his utter contempt for the guy, is resigned to agree with him, especially when he sees the heartbreakingly touched expression on his roommate’s face. “Anyway, the restaurant isn’t exactly the fanciest place in the world.” He adds a little scoff, and Kevin bites the inside of his lip again to keep himself snapping. It _is_ a fancy restaurant by Kevin’s standards. They’re not made of money.

“I don’t care,” Connor tells them all firmly. “I don’t care. Even if we just stayed in and, and ate whatever crappy healthy food Kevin’s got in the freezer, or if we went to McDonald’s and shared chicken nuggets between us, that would just be.” He stops and takes a deep breath. “That would just be amazing. Oh my God, I can’t believe you’ve done this for me.” For a moment, it looks like Connor might cry, and then he laughs and buries his face back in Steve’s shoulder as he hugs him.

It’s touching and sweet, and Kevin doesn’t understand why he’s feeling annoyed that it’s not his own shoulder Connor’s hiding his face in.

\---

“Do you _have_ to go?”

Chris laughs at the whine in Connor’s voice as they stand outside security in Departures. “I’ve got work tomorrow, Con. As much as I love you, I’ve got like, a bunch of kids counting on me to show up.”

Connor pouts, and Chris grins, looking up at Kevin over Connor’s shoulder. “I’ll miss you,” Connor tells Chris miserably. “Why can’t you just move out here?”

“You know I can’t leave my mom,” Chris tells him softly, and Kevin watches as Connor pulls him into a tight hug. They clasp at each other for a long time, and Kevin can see how fierce their friendship is. He can practically see the love emanating between the pair of them, feel it thrumming in the air around them.

“You phone me if you need anything, okay?” Chris tells him, and Kevin sees Connor nod, before Chris pulls back and grips his forearms tightly. “I’m serious, Connor. Anything happens, anything at all that you need or want, you call me, okay? I don’t care what time it is. You call me.”

“I’m fine, Chris,” Connor tells him, and he sounds kind of awkward, and Kevin suddenly feels like he’s intruding on something very private. “I’ll keep you up to date with everything. I’ll moan about customers and everything, and then you’ll regret telling me to call.”

Chris grins. “That’s what I expect.” He turns to Kevin, and when Kevin sticks a hand out to shake, Chris rolls his eyes and pulls him into a hug, throwing his arms around Kevin’s middle. “Look after him,” he tells him quietly, “or you’ll have me to answer to.”

Kevin nods. “I, uh, will,” he replies, and Chris steps back and grins at him, before returning to give Connor one last hug, before he makes his way over to join the security line, scratching at his arms nervously as a large family group join the line behind him and all but swallow him up and out of view.

Once they watch him go, Connor suddenly becomes incredibly interested in his shoes, looking down at his feet, and Kevin decides to give him a minute to compose himself.

“I’m in need of a coffee,” he tells Connor after a moment, and Connor snorts.

“Let’s go get you your fix,” he says, and starts leading them off in the direction of the Starbucks.

They walk in silence most of the way, Kevin wondering how he’d feel if he’d just said goodbye to Arnold for a long time. He thinks he’d feel awful, not knowing for sure when the next time he’d see his best friend would be, and makes a vow to himself to give Arnold a call as soon as they get back and make plans for the week. “Did you have a good weekend?” Kevin asks Connor after a little while.

Connor looks up, and grins. “I had the best weekend,” he tells him in earnest. “Thank you so much, Kevin. Honestly.” He sniffs, wipes his nose surreptitiously. “I know you did like, most of the planning. I can see through the rest of them, but you? You’re the only one who’s always full of surprises. I like that. You’re a good guy.”

Kevin probably shouldn’t glow quite as much as he does at the compliment. “Yeah, well,” he says, grinning, “I expect something incredible for _my_ birthday now.”

“ _Do_ you now?” Connor asks, and he’s raising an eyebrow. “And what exactly would you be expecting, pray tell?”

Kevin smirks. “Maybe a trip to Orlando.”

“Oh yeah?”

Kevin nods. “I’m quite the Disney fan, you know,” he tells Connor in a tone that’s only slightly teasing.

“Uh huh.” Connor is trying to sound annoyed, but Kevin can hear the smile in his voice.

“I’d love to go.”

“We’re not going to Disney, Kevin.”

“You’d love it!”

“I would not.”

“Oh yeah,” Kevin says, and Connor’s already rolling his eyes. “I forgot you’re the kind of joyless monster that hates Disney. Mind you, I can see you singing along to _It’s A Small World After All_ -”

“Right, you’ve ruined my entire weekend,” Connor says, and Kevin laughs. “God, it was going so _well,_ as well, before you brought up that _horrific_ song -”

“Everyone loves that song!”

“ _No one_ loves that song, Kevin! No one in the world has ever gone, _oh, you know what’s my favourite song? The one that wouldn’t be out of place in a fucking horror movie._ Jesus.”

“No one in the whole world?” Kevin’s smile is sly, and Connor seems to suss what he’s going to do, but doesn’t have time to stop him. “It’s a world of laughter, I guess. A world of tears. A world of hopes, a world of fears -”

“Oh my God,” Connor snaps, shoving Kevin as he starts cracking up, and doing a u-turn. “That’s it. You’ve finally cracked what’ll make me go to Ohio. It was nice knowing you, I am moving out.”

“Aw, Connor!” Kevin calls after him, laughing. “We have to put aside our differences and realise that it’s a small world after all!”

Connor gives him a very rude gesture in return, and Kevin grins, glad at least that he’s cheered his friend up a little.

\---

“Kevin!” Ghali greets as Kevin fights against the blustery wind to open the door through to Kimbay’s. “Come in, come in, sit down!” He all but drags Kevin into one of the seats by the counter and beams as he puts a plate full of little oozing pies in front of him. “I need you to try this. Look what I made! Here, take one, take one.”

Kevin takes one. Of course, it is absolutely delicious. “How do you wield these magic baking powers of yours?” he asks Ghali, and Ghali grins. Ghali has one of the best smiles; it always makes Kevin feel like he’s being hugged. The best bit is that Ghali is _always_ smiling.

“I have been practicing a lot,” he tells Kevin. “I used to bake sometimes with my grandmother. Not often, only sometimes on special occasions. When I came to America, I started practicing a lot more. I like to try all sorts of things. Practice makes perfect, Kevin,” he says, laughing as Kevin rolls his eyes. “You have to work at it. I was rubbish at first, but now I am okay. You should try it!”

Kevin, who hates anything he’s not automatically good at, decides he’ll give baking a miss. Besides, he’s good enough at cooking savoury dishes to avoid being masterful at sweet ones. Instead, he takes another bite of the little pie and leans forward to rest his chin on the heel of his hand. “You managed to clear up alright after Connor’s birthday then?” he asks, and Ghali grins, stealing a morsel of pie off of Kevin’s plate and popping it into his mouth.

“You would not believe the mess everyone created,” he tells him, rolling his eyes. “But the worst of all was the band. You know that they managed to get beer up the walls? And something that looked very suspect also,” he adds, wrinkling his nose, and Kevin lets out a small laugh, trying desperately not to imagine what sort of bodily fluid might have joined the alcohol stain.

“Hello, Kevin Price.” Kevin is knocked from his trying-not-to-think-about-it reverie by Kimbay emerging from the break room, mid-song. “Have you had some cake? Try some cake.”

Kevin nods to the half-eaten pie in his hand, and Kimbay beams, patting Ghali on the shoulder. Then she nods over to the table behind Kevin. “See that man?”

Kevin looks over his shoulder and sees a gentleman sitting awkwardly at the guestbook booth. He looks out of place in a sand-coloured suit and tie, his glasses wonky on his crooked nose as he surveys everyone, a little notebook in his hand. “Yeah?” Kevin says in a low voice.

Kimbay leans forward conspiratorially. “I do not know who he is, but I think he is an inspector of some kind. I do not like him much. He turned his nose up when I offered him mandazi.” She wrinkles her own nose, and puts a protective arm around Ghali’s shoulders, who looks a bit hurt that someone doesn’t like his baking.

“Oh,” Kevin says, and he pulls a face to show that he dislikes the sound of this man too. “A health inspector or something?” he asks in a low voice, leaning forward over the counter.

Kimbay nods. “He’s been sat there for three quarters of an hour and he has said nothing. He sniffed his coffee and then he wrote something down in his little book and glared at my customers. He thinks he is subtle but I am onto him.” She narrows her eyes in his direction and then makes a huffing noise. “When Connor gets off his break, I’m sending him to investigate.”

Kevin looks back over at the man, who seems to be writing something else down, and feels an uneasy twist in his stomach. Something about this man makes him feel off, and it’s not just because he looks startlingly like the Mission President for his own Mission. There’s just something about him that puts Kevin on edge - he looks like bad news.

Kimbay pats Kevin’s forearm. “Speaking of,” she says, nodding back over to the break room door, “how was Connor’s birthday? And more importantly, how hungover was he?”

“He had a second wind,” Kevin tells them, and both Kimbay and Ghali laugh. “No, seriously. We had an awesome day, but Chris and I were suffering, and Connor just was so full of energy, and I don’t have a clue how because he probably drank more than the pair of us combined.”

“What did you do?” Ghali asks eagerly.

“Arn scored us tickets to go see a musical,” Kevin replies. “It was quite funny. I wanted to go see a Disney show, but Connor hates Disney. Did you guys know that, actually?” he adds in a voice that suggests he’s sharing the juiciest gossip. “Can you even believe it? He hates _Disney._ What kind of soulless, joyless monster hates _Disney?”_

“Give it a rest, Kevin,” Connor’s voice says as he leaves the break room, rolling his eyes as Kimbay and Ghali pretend to be shocked. “I never said I _hated_ it. I said it was twee. There’s a difference.”

“I think you actually said you couldn’t stand it,” Kevin all but snaps, but then he decides there’s a time and a place, and while Ghali and Kimbay are both definitely joking, he’s not. “Anyway, the show was good, right?”

Connor nods, a happy little smile on his face. “I still can’t believe you guys. I _always_ spot surprises before they happen. I didn’t see this one coming at all, which is ridiculous, because you’re a _horrible_ actor,” he adds, pointing at Ghali, who laughs.

“I have got a mission for you, McKinley,” Kimbay interrupts, placing her hand on the small of Connor’s back and guiding him round to face the man with the notebook. “You need to go and find out why he is here. I think he is an inspector.”

Connor raises an eyebrow. “How the hell do I find that out?” he asks. “Do I just go up and ask him? Flirt it out of him? He looks like he’d either respond well or terribly to being flirted with. Where’s Asmeret?” he adds, looking around. “Maybe we could tag team it -”

“No flirting with my customers, McKinley,” Kimbay tells him, and Connor pretends to whine at that. “Just go and offer him a coffee and see what he is writing.”

“That’s nosey,” Connor says, but Kimbay gives him a look and he holds his hands up. “Alright, fine, I’ll do it,” he backtracks with a smile, re-knotting his apron, and Kimbay beams at him.

Kevin watches as Connor disappears off over to the man. “Do you think we should all look away?” he asks Ghali and Kimbay. “Doesn’t it look suspicious with us all staring?”

Kimbay shrugs. “He looks suspicious anyway, so that will just make two of us.” The door opens and someone else walks in, and Kimbay visibly brightens, chatting away in rapid Swahili to whoever it is who has just entered.

When Connor comes back, he stays on Kevin’s side of the counter and leans in to mutter in his ear as he reaches for the plate of cakes. “He _is_ an inspector,” Connor mutters to him, Ghali leaning closer to find out. “I just can’t tell what he’s inspecting. Or if we’re passing it.”

“We will pass it!” Ghali says brightly, and whistles a tune to himself as he takes the order from Connor. “We always do.”

Kevin looks at his roommate to smile, and Connor smiles back, although for a moment Kevin’s not sure he’s going to. “Course we will,” says Connor in agreement.

Maybe Kevin’s imagining it, but Connor looks a little worried for just a second, before his face twists into a teasing grin and he starts prattling on about his birthday once again.

\---

Kevin loves cooking.

He loves the planning, the chopping, the meticulous preparation. He would even go so far as to say he loves the washing up afterwards (or maybe he doesn’t _love_ it, but it has to be him who does it - Connor just doesn’t do it right, and Kevin ends up doing it over again).

Today is pushing it.

“Connor!” he yells as he fights with a bowl of mashed potato (the whisk keeps getting stuck, which is an absolute _nightmare_ because he normally makes amazing mash and he doesn’t want to risk judgment from _Steve Blade_ ). “Connor, will you get out here and help me?”

Connor opens his bedroom door with a surprised look on his face. He’s very dishevelled, though whether it’s from a nap or other activities, Kevin can’t bring himself to care. “What’s up?” Connor asks him.

Kevin gestures around their disaster zone of a kitchen emphatically.

Connor raises an eyebrow. “Are you genuinely asking me to help you cook?” he asks slowly. “Kevin. You’ve seen me cook before.”

“I’m here to supervise you,” Kevin replies. “God, can you just, I don’t know, chop some carrots or something?” He hates having to ask for help, and Connor knows this. “Please,” he adds with a reluctant sigh.

Connor considers it a moment, before a face appears over his shoulder, answering Kevin’s original question. “What’s up, Kev,” Steve greets cheerfully. Kevin swallows hard at the nickname and bites his tongue, but otherwise fights the urge to look darkly at his ceiling. “Want a hand?”

Kevin almost says no out of principle, but then again, he’s making dinner for six, and he’s bitten off far more than he can chew, and if he has to accept help, he’d rather it comes from Steve, who probably won’t cremate the turkey, than Connor, who has actively almost set fire to his kitchen on more than just the one occasion. So, instead of kicking off, Kevin awards Steve a tight smile and nods. “That’d be great, Steve, thanks.”

Connor grins. “Aw, my two boys,” he says, pushing himself onto tiptoes to press a kiss to Steve’s cheek and coming over to perch on the counter in the tiny amount of space between the yams and the chopping board. His hair is incredibly mussed, sticking out at awkward angles. “Cooking together. I wish I could cook.”

“Everyone can cook,” Steve says, perplexed as he begins chopping some carrots.

“Connor can’t,” Kevin says as he finally manages to beat all of the lumps out of the mash. Connor nods in agreement.

“Oh, come on,” Steve scoffs, rolling his eyes at Connor. “It’s not that hard to follow instructions every once in a while. I know you find that a challenge, Con, but really, listening to other people every now and again isn’t so difficult.”

Connor’s mouth opens slightly, and then he slams it shut in a firm line. “I do listen,” he says after a moment in a meek voice.

Maybe Kevin’s imagining it (or maybe he’s looking for something that’s not there, his brain supplies unhelpfully), but Steve’s returning scoff seems harsh, and there’s something sneering about his expression. “Sure you do, dear,” he says, and Kevin’s sure he’s not imagining the patronising tone. He waits for Connor to call Steve out on it, but the redhead simply blinks at Steve, a small crease forming between his eyebrows.

“Anyway,” Steve says, turning back to Kevin with a beaming smile, “I used to be a chef, so I love cooking.”

“Wait, you were a chef?” Obviously this is news to Connor.

“I worked in Olive Garden when I was at college,” Steve informs them, still beaming at Kevin. “But it still counts. I had a speciality and everything.”

Connor frowns some more. “When you said you were a chef, I thought you meant at like some big fancy place with like, a Michelin star or something.”  

“See, if you’d listened and not jumped to conclusions, you’d know that I was talking about my college days,” Steve says, chopping the last of the carrots with a little bit too much ferocity. When Connor suddenly looks very interested in his hands, Steve sighs and nudges Connor’s knee with the point of his elbow. “It’s a good job you’re so pretty, eh?”

Connor looks up and gives him a feeble smile. Kevin isn’t really sure what to make of it, but then Steve gives Connor a quick peck on the lips and sends a thumbs up to Kevin. “I’m just gonna grab a sweater, Kev,” he tells him, then disappears back off to Connor’s room.

Kevin turns to look at his roommate, but Connor hops down from the counter and says, “Don’t,” before Kevin has the opportunity to say anything. “Here, give me something to do. I wanna help.”

“You don’t have to,” Kevin begins, but Connor fixes him with a desperate look. “Hey, I think we might be low on eggs,” he says after a moment, stepping in front of where they are in the fridge door and trying to obscure them with his hip. He doesn’t need eggs for any component of the dish, but he’s worried about Connor, and he thinks that he might need a breather. “Do you think you could go grab some from somewhere that might be open? And hey,” he adds as Connor nods and heads to the door, “have you called Chris yet? I wanna tell him Happy Thanksgiving.”

“He hates Thanksgiving,” Connor replies with a snort, but he smiles gratefully at Kevin. There’s a slightly knowing look in his eyes, like he’s sussed exactly what Kevin’s suggesting, but he doesn’t say anything. Maybe having twenty minutes to go and vent to Chris is exactly what he needs right now. “Oh, and Kevin?” he says after a moment, pausing uncertainly at the door. Kevin looks up. “I’m fine,” he tells him, grinning brightly.

Kevin smiles back, and curses himself that he’s not as good at fake smiles as Connor McKinley.

\---

Between Kevin and Steve, they manage to get the disaster zone back under control in time for Sadaka, Nabulungi and Arnold to arrive, and Kevin has to admit that he wouldn’t have managed to have finished everything without Steve’s help, a fact that he’s quite frankly livid about. He reminds himself that his hatred for Steve is completely unwarranted as he watches his roommate’s boyfriend top up everyone’s wine.

“Babe, you should probably just have some water,” Steve tells Connor when he reaches his glass, and skips over him to top up Sadaka.

Kevin frowns. Then again, maybe his hatred _isn’t_ completely unwarranted. Steve’s been nothing but pleasant to everyone all day, but there’s an exception to that rule, and that’s all of these biting comments he’s been making towards Connor. Kevin’s not even sure if he’s imagining them anymore, because Connor has been looking increasingly more miserable all day.

“You did an amazing job, Kevin,” Nabulungi tells him as Steve fills her wine up a little more. She flashes Steve a grateful smile. “When Arnold said you made a good turkey dinner, I did not believe him quite. But now, I am convinced. Thank you, you two.”

“You’re welcome, I did loads. I bought the eggs,” Connor says, and he laughs when Nabulungi pulls a face at him. “No, but really, it was all Kevin and Steve. I literally did nothing. I wasn’t allowed.” Kevin’s not sure if he’s imagining Connor sounding bitter or not.

“Steve, you can cook also?” Nabulungi asks, raising an eyebrow in surprise. “Wow, you are a catch. Connor is a lucky guy.”

“So lucky,” Connor says cheerfully. Kevin notices how his jaw is clenched slightly.

Steve smiles as he puts a glass of water in front of Connor, whose knuckles turn white around the glass. “I was a chef before I became a guidance counsellor,” he says for the second time that day, winking at Nabulungi, who nods interestedly, looking impressed.

“You worked at Olive Garden during college,” Connor cuts in with a slightly incredulous laugh, and there’s a polite titter, because there’s a tension in Connor’s voice that Kevin’s certain he’s not imagining now.

Steve smiles tightly. “I was a good cook and I worked there for four years to support myself through my undergrad,” he says in a voice that sounds much lighter than his expression. “If you’d gone to college, you’d probably have had to have learned to cook for yourself as well, instead of forcing poor old Kev to do it for you.”

Connor turns slightly pink at that. Kevin watches between them, slightly shocked, and waits for his roommate to kick off about how rude that was, or to shut him down with some witty quip. To his absolute surprise, Connor does neither of those things, and merely looks down at his lap.

Kevin’s getting fed up of this. “I mean though,” he says, trying to sound bright, “if you’d gone to college, you’d be up to your eyeballs in debt now while still slogging your guts out, so really, I don’t think you missed out that much. Also, cooking at college is like making pasta. It’s not exactly the height of cuisine.”

Connor carries on looking at his lap, but Kevin thinks he sees his lips quirk slightly.

“You’d probably be earning more though to cancel out the debt,” Steve says lightly, and Kevin’s grip on his fork tightens.

“College isn’t for everyone, though,” he says. “Arnold dropped out, and he’s earning way more than any of us, isn’t that right, Arnold?”

Arnold looks a bit shocked to have been plunged into the middle of this debate. “Er, yeah,” he says nervously. “But, um, I mean, I just got lucky.” He’s trying to be modest.

Unfortunately, this isn’t a time for modesty. “No, you’re super talented,” Kevin corrects him firmly, and he makes a mental note to apologise to Arnold for his fierce support later when he watches his best friend flinch. “Like Connor! Connor’s super talented. He’s an awesome dancer.”

“Kevin,” Connor says in a quiet voice.

“I’m just saying,” Steve says, and his smile is tight again, “that college _is_ the best path for most people. You have to be super gifted or super lucky to break out and make it on talent alone.”

“Well, Connor _is_ super gifted,” Kevin snaps before he can stop himself.

“ _Kevin._ ” Connor’s voice has a tone of warning about it.

“I do not understand this need for college,” Sadaka says, adding to the conversation. “I never went, and I am very happy in my job. I think Connor is very happy in his job too.”

“I am,” Connor says, and clears his throat, clearly trying to change the conversation, when Steve interrupts.

“I’m a guidance counsellor,” he tells them, as if none of them are aware of this particular piece of information.

“So you’ve said.” Kevin’s aware that his smile is probably starting to look more like a grimace.

Steve’s is too. “I talk to kids on the daily about what their goals in life might be, Kev,” he says, and Kevin grits his teeth at the nickname. God, he can’t stand this man. “They want to be astronauts, or scientists, or princesses or teachers. You need to go to college for these great aspirations.”

“You don’t have to go to college to be a princess, actually,” Arnold cuts in, then immediately shuffles down in his seat, shying away as everyone’s eyes turn on him. “Not that I, er, looked it up, but um, you’re normally like born into royalty. That’s what makes princesses who marry in so awesome.”

“Well, Connor, if you wanted to be a princess, you’re in luck,” Steve says nastily, and Kevin thinks he’s about to see red.

“I think we put too much pressure on children, anyway,” Nabulungi says, shooting Kevin a warning look and patting Arnold on the shoulder and completely ignoring his input. “In elementary school, they should be worried about what their parents have put in their lunch boxes, not which electives they will have to take years from now. They should be worried about who they play with at lunchtime, or who they are getting recess married to, and not about Ivy League schools or grades.”

There’s a general hum of agreement, and even Steve looks stumped.

Sadaka, ever the social engineer, latches onto her comment and says, “Oh, Naba, Kevin, did you know that Sanjay and Rosa are getting married next Tuesday at recess? They gave me an invitation on Friday. Sanjay has excellent cursive.”

Nabulungi grins and turns onto the conversation, and they explain the background details to an interested Arnold and an upset-looking Connor.

“They were so funny at the aquarium trip, Arnold,” Nabulungi tells him, laughing. “Sanjay tried to steal a sea cucumber from the touchtank.”

“Oh, that was such a good trip,” Steve chimes in, smiling. “That’s where we met, actually, isn’t it, babe?” he adds, and reaches to put his arm around Connor, when Connor pushes back his chair suddenly and stands up.

“Con?” Kevin asks worriedly.

“I’m sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all, “but I’m not feeling well. I’m gonna have to go to bed.” And he all but runs off to his room, the door slamming behind him.

There’s a moment of surprised silence, and then Kevin half rises from his chair, but Steve beats him to it.

“I told him he should go easy on the wine,” he says lightly, rolling his eyes jokingly and laughing slightly. No one else laughs. “Well, it was lovely to see you again, Arnold. I’m going to go check on him, just to see if he’s alright.”

 _He’s clearly not alright, you absolute moron,_ Kevin thinks, but he bites his lip to keep himself from saying anything and nods.

Sadaka makes an excuse to leave after a moment, saying how her father will be tired and coming home from work soon. Kevin sends her off with some leftovers, and she gives him a tight hug. “Make sure he is fine, please,” she whispers into his ear, then presses a kiss to his cheek.

Arnold and Nabulungi hover out of politeness, but then voices start raising from Connor’s room, and the couple end up both looking at Kevin with wide eyes.

“Do they fight a lot?” Arnold asks Kevin and Nabulungi worriedly.

“No,” Kevin replies, and it’s the truth. For all his dislike for Steve, he hasn’t seen this coming. “Has he said anything to you?” he asks Nabulungi, who shakes her head, biting her lip. It seems she hasn’t seen it coming either.

Eventually, they have to leave, though Nabulungi makes Kevin promise to call her if Connor needs her. Kevin pinky swears, then gives them both a huge hug, and pretends to do some work on his laptop as he anxiously waits to see if his roommate is okay.

It’s gone midnight when Steve storms out of Connor’s bedroom. He looks at Kevin.

“He’s completely unreasonable,” he tells him, scoffing as if Kevin is going to agree. Kevin doesn’t. “I’ve tried, but we're done, apparently. He’s all yours. Thanks for dinner.”

Kevin doesn’t tell him that he’s welcome, just watches as he leaves their apartment. Once the door is shut, Kevin slides the bolt across and then heads tentatively towards Connor’s bedroom.

He raps his knuckles against the door, and when there’s no answer, carefully pushes it open to let himself in. “Con?” he asks gently.

There’s sniffling. “What.” Connor’s voice is thick, but there’s no rise.

Kevin pushes the door wider, and sees his roommate curled up on his side on the bed, hugging his knees into his chest. His nose is bright red, and Kevin thinks he’d tease Connor about it if his eyes weren’t also glassy with unshed tears. Instead, Kevin comes in to perch on the end of the bed. “I’m not going to ask if you’re okay,” he tells Connor, and Connor makes a noise in his throat that could mean anything. “I just want you to know that you’re worth so much more than you think you are.”

And that’s it. Connor squeezes his eyes shut as tears spill over. He wipes at his face furiously with his sleeves, and then tries to sit up, to look at Kevin, when a sob escapes his throat, and suddenly the floodgates open.

Kevin pulls him into his chest instinctively, putting his arms around him, hushing him as Connor’s hands cling to his shirt. He lets his chin rest atop of Connor’s head, the smell of the redhead’s shampoo tickling his nose. “It’s okay,” Kevin whispers, trying to reassure him. “It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

Eventually, Connor wears himself out crying. His sobs begin to dissipate, and his grip on Kevin’s shirt loosens slightly. He rests his head in Kevin’s lap, and before he can stop himself, Kevin finds himself stroking Connor’s hair out of his eyes. “Don’t make this weird,” he says with a small laugh as Connor freezes at his touch. “My mom always did this when we were upset.”

“Little Kevin Price,” Connor says, and his voice is all snotty and gross. He sniffs, rubbing at his eyes with the sleeves of his sweater. “God. This is mortifying. I bet you haven’t cried in years.”

“Years? Try days,” Kevin jokes. “ _Hours,_ even. It was touch and go for a bit with that mashed potato, you know. Even root vegetables can reduce me to tears, Connor. I don’t think you have anything to be ashamed of.”

Connor sniffle laughs, and shifts slightly in Kevin’s lap, drawing himself in closer. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, and Kevin’s heart wrenches. This is the first time he’s ever heard Connor apologise sincerely, and it’s completely unwarranted. “I cry so easy sometimes, whenever I’m mad, or, or… Ugh. I’m so pathetic. _God._ He’s right.”

“You listen to me, Connor McKinley,” Kevin says firmly, because he’s cross that anyone might ever call Connor anything other than amazing. “You are not pathetic. Crying doesn’t make you pathetic. You’re upset, and you’re hurt, and that’s okay. You don’t have to be strong all the time, you know. You’re only human. It’s okay to not be okay.”

Connor nods, closing his eyes again, and Kevin softens, pulling Connor’s duvet up over his shoulders so he’s warm.

“You don’t have to stay here,” Connor says after a while. His voice is croaky, and it sounds sleepy round the edges.

“I know.” Kevin makes no move to leave, continuing to stroke Connor’s hair back.

Connor sniffs. “I’m glad you are, though.”

Kevin smiles. “I’m glad I have you to be here for,” he tells him in earnest. Connor sniffles some more, but Kevin thinks he can feel him smile into his lap.

\---

Kevin wakes up in the middle of the night with a crick in his neck and Connor’s head still in his lap. Connor’s breathing sounds a little laboured, and he mutters something to himself in a voice that sounds panicked. His eyes are moving very fast under his eyelids.

Kevin strokes a hand through his hair before he even thinks about the action, smoothing the curls with his fingertips. He can’t remember what you’re supposed to do with nightmares. Are you supposed to wake them up, or is that dangerous? Or is that sleepwalking? Kevin would pull his phone out and Google it, but his thigh is lodged beneath Connor’s head, and he might wake him up anyway, and then that might defeat the whole object of Googling it in the first place, and if it’s dangerous then he could damage Connor, and what if he does and he loses his best friend and then his best friend’s best friends find out and then they come for Kevin and then he loses his other friends and he gets sacked for causing gross harm to another human and then he has to move back to Salt Lake only he can’t afford the tickets and -

Connor gasps awake, knocking Kevin’s jaw with his forehead as he sits up. He lets out a little noise of shock at the collision, a hand flying up to touch his forehead before he turns to look at Kevin. He blinks, and then groans, turning away.

“Connor?” Kevin’s no longer spiralling, his hand resting on the small of Connor’s back. “Connor, it’s… it’s okay. I’m here.”

Connor’s still heaving for breath, pushing himself up so that he’s sat on the edge of the bed and bracing himself, hands on his knees. Kevin follows him, running his fingers gently along Connor’s spine. “It’s okay,” he says again, and Connor wipes at his face with the heel of his hand. “You’re awake. I’m here.” He continues to murmur reassurances to the redhead as Connor fights to get his breathing back under control.

“S-sorry,” Connor gasps after a moment, and Kevin hushes him. “Sorry, I. Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Kevin tells him. “Come on. Let’s get you back to sleep -”

Connor shakes his head. “I’m awake now,” he says quietly, clearly still very shaken from the nightmare.

“But it’s four in the morning -” Kevin tries to protest, but Connor shakes his head again, pushing himself to his feet. His skin is covered in goosebumps.

“I’m fine,” he says, looking anything but.

Kevin sighs and stands up after him, pulling the comforter with him and reaching over to wrap it around Connor’s shoulders, essentially bundling him up. “Come on, at least let me make you a hot drink,” he all but pleads.

Connor tries to refuse, but Kevin stares him down, and he has to concede. “I’m fine Kevin, really. But if you have to -”

“I do.”

“- I’ll have a hot chocolate.”

One hot chocolate later, and Kevin can feel himself falling asleep at the kitchen table, but he pinches the skin on his forearm between his fingers to try and keep himself awake. Connor needs him, he keeps telling himself.

Connor hasn’t said anything, just keeps staring into his mug of untouched hot chocolate, looking thoroughly shaken.

“Want to talk about it?” he asks.

“Let’s not,” Connor replies croakily.

Kevin nods. “Okay.”

He tries his best to stay awake, but his eyes are drooping. He regrets drinking his own hot chocolate and not electing for coffee as he listens to the ticking of the clock on the wall and the hum of the refrigerator and the sound of Connor breathing.

He doesn’t realise he’s fallen asleep until he wakes up the next morning with his head on the table and the throw from the couch hugging his shoulders. When he looks up blearily, Connor’s gone, but there’s a sticky note on the table with a drawing of a smiley face and a scribble of a cat drinking coffee.

\---

“Okay,” Connor says as he opens the door that evening. “I want you not to judge.”

“That sounds like a challenge when you put it that way,” Kevin replies from where he is sat on the couch watching Lilo and Stitch.

“It _is_ a challenge for you,” Connor says pointedly, although he then grins, showing he’s joking. He’s got a grocery bag under his arm. “Okay. So, I may have done something a little bit radical.”

“A little bit radical?” Kevin repeats, feeling nervous. What’s Connor going to say? He goes to close the lid of his laptop, but Connor shakes his head, grinning.

“It’s nothing bad,” he tells him. “I just… remember that fat tabby you wanted to adopt?”

“John?” Kevin replies, reaching to switch tabs in his browser. He still has it favourited. “Yes, he was awesome. Aw, they’ve found him a new - wait.” He looks up at Connor suspiciously, who looks both sheepish and pleased with himself. “What’s in the bag, Connor?”

Connor sighs and shows him. Tins of cat food.

Kevin looks at him. “You didn’t.”

“It wasn’t _that_ impulsive,” Connor tries to insist, and suddenly he looks nervous. “You were thinking of adopting him, right? I saw you had cat beds open on Amazon. I just thought I’d give you the push you needed. So, they’re going to do an inspection on the place, and then I mean, you’ll have a get out clause if you decide it’s dumb and… and I can phone them now actually, say we can’t do it.”

“No,” Kevin replies, and Connor looks up. “No. Come on. You’re right. I was so close to booking a consultation before, and I hate to think of him never being adopted. You’re just giving me the push to do it.”

Connor’s grin is definitely more sheepish than proud this time, but he nods. “They’re coming Monday,” he tells him, moving to pencil it in on the calendar on the fridge.

Kevin grins. “Well then,” he says, “looks like we’re going to have a busy weekend making this apartment cat-proof.”


	6. December

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas, there's a cat, and Kimbay mothers everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey there! 
> 
> Thanks as always for all your lovely messages and kudos! I'm glad you all hate Steve - when I first wrote this he was far too nice and I had to find a way to make him more antagonistic! 
> 
> This chapter took me a while to write! I struggled a lot with writing Kevin's family, so cut a lot of their interactions, although I did have fun writing Jack! 
> 
> There is a discussion about medication and sleeping disorders in this chapter fairly near the beginning.
> 
> Thanks as always, and have a lovely week!! Here's 10k of nonsense <3

Kevin wakes up to a pillow to the face and a bony elbow on his chest. He startles into consciousness to find Connor leaning over him, eyes wide. 

“Wake up,” Connor says, grin manic. 

Kevin watches him dubiously. “Are you going to suffocate me with my pillow?” He's only half joking. 

Connor pretends (Kevin hopes) to consider it for a moment, before shaking his head. “Not tonight,” he says, rocking back on his heels into a sitting position. Kevin is vaguely aware that he’s straddling him, and clears his throat. 

He’s about to ask ‘to what do I owe the pleasure?’, but he’s too tired to think of the right thing to say, so instead he asks, “then what the hell do you want?” 

Connor looks gleeful as he springs from the bed, and Kevin notices for the first time he’s still fully dressed in the oversized gaudy jumper and ripped skinny jeans he’d been wearing yesterday. Connor throws open the makeshift curtains (two pillow cases drawn together by coat hangers) and reveals outside. “It’s  _ snowing _ ,” he says emphatically. 

Kevin makes to sit up, squinting out of his window into the orange glow of street lamps. 

Connor’s beaming. “Well?” 

“That’s it?” Kevin asks after a moment. “That’s why you woke me up at… Jesus, Connor, it’s three thirty. I’ve got to be up in an hour and a half!” 

“Sleep cycles normally run in ninety minute periods,” Connor informs him matter of factly, and then throws an arm in a gesture towards the window. “Look, it’s snowing! And it’s all  _ crisp _ and  _ fresh _ , and who  _ knows _ if it’ll still be snowing at five. What if it melts immediately and then you spend all day miserable that you missed the snow?” 

“It’s New York,” Kevin replies flatly. “It always snows.” 

Connor gives him a look that tells him he’s missed the point, and then opens the window, letting in a huge gust of cold air. 

“Holy shit, Connor!” Kevin draws the blankets up over his arms to protect himself from a blast of icy weather. Connor leans out, takes a deep breath, and sighs wistfully. Kevin can see an idea form in his head, and he hastily says, “No.  _ No, _ Connor.” 

“I’ve just had an  _ awesome  _ idea,” Connor says, and Kevin continues shaking his head. “Come on! Let’s go walk in it. Ugh, imagine how great everything will look.” 

“I have an even better idea,” Kevin replies, jarring a thumb at the pillow behind his head pointedly. “We could not do that, and I could get some shut eye, and you could, I don’t know, oh,  _ go the fuck to sleep. _ ” He looks Connor up and down. “Have you even set foot in your room today?” 

Connor shrugs. “I’m not tired,” he says, looking exhausted. Kevin is about to tell him as much, but something about the way Connor’s eyes look right now has him biting his lip. The shadows beneath them seem more pronounced than usual, and he looks vaguely disheveled, but his eyes themselves are bright and desperate and kind of frightened, as if he’s scared Kevin will reject him. “Well,” he says, making to spin on his heel. “ _ I’m  _ going out.” 

Kevin groans before he can even process what he’s about to put himself through, and throws the covers back. “Let me get a sweater,” he tells him, tone that of a man who has given up, and Connor visibly brightens. “You’re buying me a coffee at six if you’re still awake, you know.” 

“I’ll even walk an extra block to get it from that bitchy little Starbucks you loved so much before I taught you about what good coffee actually tastes like,” Connor replies as if he is  _ the _ connoisseur to consult (Kevin almost points out that Connor doesn’t actually  _ drink  _ coffee and so has no idea what he’s talking about, but decides that risks him losing any chance of a venti americano), and gives him a smile that would have been believably mocking if it hadn’t reached his eyes. 

Kevin sighs, grabs his university hoodie and slings it on (disturbing John in the process who was curled up on top of it), and lets Connor all but drag him from their apartment. 

As they trundle through snow, Connor twirling and cackling and turning his face up to the sky, Kevin watches him. Two months ago, if Connor had woken him up at three thirty to show him snow, he’d have murdered him and buried him in the foundations of the new condos they’re throwing up a block north. But here he is, watching Connor look genuinely happy, and smiling slightly that he gets to witness it. 

For his part, Connor seems to be in his element. Laughing, he falls back in step with Kevin and grins up at him. “I  _ love _ snow,” he tells him, and Kevin raises an eyebrow. 

“I got that.” 

“Winter is my favourite time of year,” Connor continues, throwing his arms out. “The clothes are better, there’s all this joy in the air. No one judges you for stuffing your face with delicious food. Everyone and their mom wants to take you out for Christmas drinks. And you get to be  _ cold, _ ” he adds, as if this is some sort of incredible bonus you could easily miss out on. “I  _ love _ being cold.” 

“You’re not normal.” 

“Maybe so,” Connor says with a shrug, and continues unperturbed, “but you can’t deny that being all snuggled up in sweaters and blankets with a good book or a TV show isn’t just delectable. Plus cuddling is so uncomfortable in summer, but winter is a great time to be a little spoon, so, bonus.” 

Kevin nods in vague agreement. “I suppose. I’d say I was more of a summer person, though, really.” 

“That’s because you’re like, ripped.” Connor pats Kevin’s arm to prove his point and grins. Kevin feels a small amount of pride at the appreciative way in which Connor does this. “For skinny guys like me, though, we’re better suited to sweaters and coats and  _ layers _ . I  _ love _ layers.” 

Kevin rolls his eyes. “I’d never have guessed,” he says, because it’s pushing five am and he’s feeling smarmy, but also because Connor’s right - layers do suit him a lot. Connor’s hand is still resting on his arm, and then he pulls him so that they’re linked at the elbow. “How long have you been awake for?” he asks Connor, and Connor rolls his eyes.

“Don’t go all Mr. Price on me, please,” Connor tells him as he pulls him along. “Just enjoy the snow, will you? It’s beautiful. I love snow. I love winter.” He closes his eyes and inhales through his nose. “I hope it doesn’t melt.” 

\---

Connor’s wish comes true, and by the time Kevin’s getting ready for work (sleep deprived of that extra hour and a half that normally allows him to get through the day), the snow’s coming in thick and fast. Connor does keep his promise and gets him coffee from the Starbucks he used to frequent back before he discovered Kimbay’s (he will never admit that Connor’s right in that he makes it a better cup, and pretends that it is the nectar of the Gods instead, making pleased noises), and even goes so far as to pick him up a cake for breakfast as Kevin stares out of the window, thinking about how cramped the bus will be. 

“Wanna split it?” Kevin asks when Connor hands him the paper bag with a Pecan Danish in it. He’s grateful that Connor at least upholds his end of the bargain, despite the fact he currently feels like a zombie. 

Connor grins and shakes his head. “Nut allergy,” he reminds him, and when Kevin opens his mouth to tell him how stupid he is for picking one up for him, Connor interrupts. “Don’t start panicking,” he says firmly. “I didn’t touch it, I had my gloves on, and it’s not  _ that _ severe an allergy anyway. Besides,” he continues, “I know it’s your favourite. And, well. Ugh. Just take the dumb cake, okay?” 

Kevin pouts at him, but he’s touched. “Thanks.” 

“Whatever,” Connor says, then blows him a kiss. “I’m off to bed. Later.” 

As Kevin sits on the bus on the way to work, he sees what Connor means. It’s still early - there’s not as many footprints as there might be later - but the snow is definitely more disturbed than it had been, looks less like a blanket. There is something magical about the snow at night that doesn’t translate quite so well into the day. 

Kevin shivers as a gust of icy air hits him through the crack in the window and pulls his coat tighter around himself. He definitely prefers summer. Summer suits him; he looks good in shirts in a way he struggles to pull off in knitwear, and he has always managed to tan quite nicely, and  _ personally  _ he thinks he looks  _ great  _ in sunglasses. But he can’t help thinking about what Connor said last night, about how  _ skinny guys like him  _ suited layers. Winter  _ does  _ look good on Connor, he decides, when he’s all bright eyes and rosy cheeks beneath the amber glow of street lamps, bundled up in a scarf and hat and looking so toasty and deliciously warm. He looked nice all fall, too, Kevin thinks. Autumnal colours suit Connor McKinley.  _ He’s quite good-looking, really,  _ Kevin thinks to himself, then feels himself blush at the thought. Although, he shouldn’t blush really, right? He can appreciate how other people look. He likes the way Nabulungi dresses and that means absolutely nothing, does it? 

“Nope,” he says aloud to himself, and the guy manspreading next to him shoots him a funny look and shuffles a bit towards the window.  _ Good,  _ Kevin thinks, relieved to have more space. No. He’s fine. It’s totally normal for friends to appreciate each other’s looks, isn’t it?

He wonders if Connor ever thinks about how  _ he  _ dresses, and allows himself a small smile.

\--- 

When Kevin gets home that evening, Connor’s sat on the couch wrapped up in his comforter, looking like death warmed up. The bags under his eyes look almost black, and he looks like he’s shivering. John is curled up into his side, purring as Connor’s fingers lightly scratch behind his ears. 

“You look like hell,” Kevin says, but Connor doesn’t look up. He’s staring blankly at the wall in front of him. “Connor,” Kevin says, more sharply this time, and Connor flinches, suddenly aware that he’s not alone. “You okay?” 

Connor looks up at him as if he’s never seen him before. “Huh?” he asks.

Kevin frowns. “Have you slept at all?” 

Connor wriggles uncomfortably. “I tried,” he says, and Kevin gets a sudden horrible feeling in his chest. “I just can’t right now.” 

“When did you last sleep?” Kevin asks him, and he tries to keep his voice level. 

Connor shrugs. “Like, a couple days ago or something?” 

“A couple days?” Kevin is horrified. “Connor! That’s so bad for you! Why the heck haven’t you been sleeping?”

“Alright, alright,” Connor snaps, and he shuffles away from him, looking upset. “I know it’s bad. You don’t have to get all up on my case about it. Leave me alone.”

Kevin sticks his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” he apologises hastily. “I’m just worried about you. Are you…” He pauses, trying to think of what to say.  _ Are you okay?  _ seems like the stupidest question he could possibly ask right now. Connor is so clearly not okay, hasn’t been okay for a while, judging from the huge bags under his eyes and the pallor of his skin. He looks watery eyed and miserable, and Kevin’s heart is aching. “Is there something keeping you from sleeping?” 

Connor closes his eyes. Kevin can see his teeth digging into his bottom lip. Then he looks up and says, “I used to get nightmares a whole lot as a kid.” His voice is crackly and thin. 

Kevin nods, but doesn’t say anything. 

Connor sighs. “So I’m getting some again. So what? It’s fine. I’ll sleep eventually.” He looks cross again, but mostly worried, and Kevin feels something in his chest tighten. 

“Are you not sleeping because you can’t sleep, or because you won’t?” he asks softly.

He’s not anticipating the distressed look on Connor’s face. “You don’t know what these dreams are like,” he says, and he looks absolutely distraught at the thought. “You don’t know what sleep paralysis, or, or waking up screaming, is like. It’s so… it’s… God, it’s awful, and I should have, I don’t know, grown out of it or something, because it sounds so dumb,  _ so  _ dumb, to say that I’m like, scared to go to sleep at night when I’m like, in my twenties or whatever.” 

“It’s not dumb at all,” Kevin says. Connor looks like he doesn’t believe him, and Kevin decides to come and sit next to him, resting his hand on Connor’s knee. It feels oddly intimate. Kevin pushes  _ that  _ particular thought right to the back of his mind, and looks across at Connor, who is focusing on taking deep breaths. “It must be really difficult, actually.”

Connor’s breath is shaky. “It is,” he admits, picking at the fraying edge of his comforter. “I… I don’t really dream of anything specific anymore. I don’t  _ remember _ dreaming anything half the time. I just wake up with this  _ feeling _ , this feeling of just like…” He pauses, searching for a description. “It’s just like this feeling of pure dread.” He sighs and wipes at his face. “It used to be so much worse. I was on meds for a while, y’know - sleeping pills, stuff for anxiety, stuff to try help me even out a sleep cycle - before I… before I left home.” 

Kevin doesn’t want to ask about home, because he knows it’s a sensitive topic. From the hints he’s gathered from both Chris and Connor himself, Connor’s homelife was horrific. “Did the meds help?” he asks.

Connor shrugs. “Yeah and no,” he admits. “It was nice to not be so worried about falling asleep, but then that’s because I wasn’t really worried about anything. And then, well, when I left home, I came off them all so quick, and that just wasn’t good. But, well. God, I just wish I could sleep like a normal person, Kevin, you have no idea.” 

Kevin can’t help it - he puts his arm around him. To his surprise, Connor just slumps against him as Kevin rubs his arm through the blanket comfortingly. 

“It’s part of the reason I sleep during the day, to be honest,” Connor admits, and Kevin finds himself raising an eyebrow, curious as to what exactly he means about that. “I mean, I find it hard anyway, sleeping. And my schedule  _ is  _ like, all round the wrong way when I  _ do  _ sleep, but. I don’t know. I just don’t want to wake you up.” 

And that’s it - Kevin’s heart is actually  _ hurting  _ from this particular admission. “You don’t have to be embarrassed,” he says, and Connor laughs, humorlessly.

“Easier said than done, Kevin,” he says, and then he shrugs. “And then part of it is that you have to get up  _ so early,  _ and I’d just… I’d feel awful if I scared you or annoyed you or kept you up all night.” 

“Listen to me, Connor,” Kevin says firmly, and he puts his fingers under Connor’s chin to tilt his head to face him. Connor looks surprised at the contact, and his mouth falls open slightly, and Kevin decides to focus very hard on his eyes, which are oh-so blue when they’re misting over. He turns his attention instead to just above them, because he remembers being told to look just above someone’s head when you were nervous by a therapist when he was in his teens. “You don’t need to worry about me. Your health is more important than the chance that you’re going to wake me up. And if you wake me up, so what? At least then I can be there for you.” 

“Be there for me?” Connor repeats it like he can’t quite believe what Kevin’s saying. 

Kevin nods. “You know, comfort you and stuff. Not in a creepy way,” he adds, worried suddenly about how that must have come across.  _ God, Kevin, why don’t you ever think?  _

Connor snorts. “Gee, Kevin,” he says, his tone teasing, and Kevin rolls his eyes, but really, he’s glad to hear Connor not sound quite so crushed. “Buy me a drink first.” He leans his head against Kevin’s shoulder though, and Kevin feels a funny little flutter in his chest. “I’m so tired,” he whispers. “Like, all the time.” 

Kevin turns his head slightly, Connor’s hair tickling his nose, his cheek. Connor rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes and yawns, and Kevin feels as though Connor’s exhaustion is seeping into him, his own eyes stinging. He doesn’t want to say anything at risk of it coming out patronising. 

“Tell me about school,” Connor says after a moment, his head resting in the crook of Kevin’s neck, and Kevin drums his fingers lightly against Connor’s shoulder as he hums, trying to think of something interesting to share with him.

“Sanjay and Akshay had a big argument over one of Arnold’s books today,” he tells him after a moment, and Connor makes a non-committal noise, trying to sound interested but clearly flagging. “They were arguing over who was the best character in  _ The Monsters of Mersey Bridge. _ Akshay thought it was Blocktrop the Dwarf, but Sanjay thinks it’s Felonia the Villain.”  __

“Who was right?” Connor asks, voice sleepy.

“Neither of them,” Kevin says, wrinkling his nose, and Connor exhales a bit louder to indicate that he found that funny. “The best character in  _ The Monsters of Mersey Bridge  _ is the Bridge itself. I love the Bridge. He’s really funny.” He squeezes Connor’s shoulder lightly with his fingers. “Ever read it?” 

Connor shakes his head. Kevin smiles and begins to fill him in on the mundane details of  _ The Monsters of Mersey Bridge  _ (which aren’t that mundane at all - Arnold is actually a really talented writer) as he feels Connor grow heavier against his shoulder. 

Finally, Connor falls asleep. Kevin lets him rest against his shoulder a little longer, before he eases out from beneath him, lowering him to the couch and pulling his comforter so that he is tucked in tight. He eases a cushion under Connor’s head to act as a pillow and then retires to the table instead. He would do some work, he tells himself, but the fan on his laptop is very loud, and he doesn’t want to wake Connor back up again. He’d go to his room, too, but the thought of leaving Connor on his own on the couch makes the redhead seem very small and vulnerable, so Kevin vows to stay in here with him.

Instead, Kevin gets up to pluck his copy of  _ The Monsters of Mersey Bridge  _ from the bookshelf, and watches Connor sleep over the top of its pages.

\---

Nabulungi is flapping. 

Kevin has never seen his best friend’s girlfriend look anything less than a picture of composure before, but right now as she directs he and Sadaka into moving a painted background, she looks well and truly stressed. 

“No, no, a little more to the left,” she says, gripping at her elbows as if they are the only thing keeping her from falling apart. “No, to the right -” 

Sadaka drops her end of the set decoration. “We stood here a minute ago and you said it was wrong,” she tells Nabulungi, who looks horrified that she isn’t being gentle with it. “Come on, Nabulungi, I know you want it to be perfect but we have been walking across this stage for fifteen minutes and you just seem to be getting more upset.” 

Kevin has to admit that Sadaka has a point. Even Nabulungi looks like she might have to concede. “Is here okay?” he asks her.

“Here is okay, Kevin, put it down,” Sadaka replies for Nabulungi, and Kevin tries to weigh up who he finds scarier out of the pair of them, before he decides the set piece is heavy and bends his knees to put it down, albeit a lot more carefully than his friend had. 

Nabulungi makes a frustrated noise. “Why did I think this was ever a good idea?” she asks no-one in particular, and Kevin feels a pang of empathy for her. Hopping off of the stage, he heads over to her, throwing an arm around her shoulders. 

“It’s going to be great, Naba,” he tells her softly, trying to be as reassuring as possible. She looks at him disbelievingly. “You’ve put so much time and work and effort into it that it can’t  _ not  _ be great. Tell her, Sadaka,” he adds, throwing Sadaka a pointed look. 

Sadaka jumps down from the stage too. “From what I saw of your dress rehearsal, it looked very good,” she tells her. “You’re doing the story of Kintu, yes?” 

Nabulungi nods, and gestures to a cow costume as if that is obvious. Sadaka makes a noise that indicates that it  _ is  _ obvious, and Kevin realises his cultural competencies might not be as high as previously thought. “What if the principal hates it and he never allows me to do anything like this again?” she asks nervously, and both Sadaka and Kevin rest a hand on her shoulder, trying to reassure her. She shakes her head. “No, no, guys, this is perfectly valid. What if this happens?” 

“There’s no way anyone’s going to hate it,” Kevin tells her firmly. “You put so much time and effort into making something you and your class can be proud of. No one’s going to hate it. I think everyone’s going to love it, actually.” 

“But what if the kids are bored?” Nabulungi asks, looking horrified, as if the thought has just occurred to her.

“I loved the story of Kintu,” Sadaka says, shrugging. “I still love it. I do not think the kids will have any other thoughts than  _ this is a fun school day!”  _

“She’s right,” Kevin adds in what he hopes is a helpful manner. “I remember watching school plays. I saw some shockers, and I loved every single one.”

“But what if people are right, and kids today only care about… about iPhones and fidget spinners?” Nabulungi asks, and both Sadaka and Kevin roll their eyes, laughing slightly. She doesn’t believe that, and they know it. She is just starting to spiral, like Kevin does sometimes.

“I only cared about Disney and Mormonism when I was a kid,” Kevin replies, “and I still loved school plays. Fidget spinners and iPhones lend themselves a lot more to school plays than Conservative parenting does.” 

Nabulungi looks slightly more convinced, although she looks slightly nauseous as her eyes pass over a backdrop covered in paintings of fluffy clouds. “You think my kids will remember their lines?” 

“Who cares?” Sadaka says, and Kevin nods in agreement. “This is for fun, Nabulungi.”

“They’re not earning their equity card,” Kevin adds, echoing the words Nabulungi herself had told Connor back in October. “Come on, Naba. I know how much this means to you, but you’re stressing yourself out over nothing now.” 

“I just want to represent my culture and my teaching as best I can,” Nabulungi admits, and Kevin turns a little pink. Of course, this is so much more than just a play to her. Kevin curses himself for his lack of sensitivity towards her. “These are two of the most important parts of my identity, and I want to share them. And also, I want my kids to come off in a good light, and to be as proud of being a part of it as I am.” 

“Well, I don’t know about them, but  _ I  _ am proud to see my culture represented by your class,” Sadaka tells her, squeezing her shoulders. “It will be amazing, Nabulungi. Everything I have seen so far has led me to have more confidence in you than I have ever had in anything. So, no pressure.” 

Nabulungi gives a weak laugh. “I do not know if that helps or not.” 

“Let’s say it does,” Sadaka replies, giving her one last gentle pat on the arm. She gives Nabulungi a brilliant smile, one that truly glows, and Nabulungi allows her a feeble one back.  “Now, haven’t you got an assembly to run?” 

\--- 

The play ends up being magnificent.

Of course it does.

Kevin watches the kids in his class enraptured in the storytelling at first, but soon he finds that he’s engrossed in the story too. Nabulungi’s class are clearly so interested in the story they’re telling that it becomes kind of magical, and in the brief moment his eyes flicker up to her, he finds his heart aching with pride as she watches them with a tearful smile. 

Kevin thinks about the love he has for his friends, about how incredibly lucky he is, and then finds his own smile a bit wobbly as the kids crack up at the moo Greg gives, dressed as Kintu’s cow. 

Kevin and Sadaka team up and buy Nabulungi a potted plant, which they present her with at the end of the school day, Kevin pressing a kiss to her cheek and Sadaka hugging her with so much force she very nearly knocks her clean off her feet. 

“That was excellent!” Sadaka enthuses, and Nabulungi gives them both a nervously hopeful look. “The kids loved it.  _ I  _ loved it.” 

Nabulungi smiles and looks to Kevin.

“I thought it was amazing,” Kevin replies to her unspoken question, agreeing with Sadaka. “Honestly, that Kintu guy? Genius.” He pauses as both Sadaka and Nabulungi start laughing, and frowns. “What?” 

“That Kintu guy,” they repeat in unison. Sadaka pats him on the shoulder. “He’s very famous, you know,” she tells him. “He appears in many Ugandan tales.”

“I need to hear more Ugandan tales, then, because I liked the sound of him,” Kevin replies, and Nabulungi punches him lightly in the arm, looking radiant as she smiles. 

“I would like to celebrate,” she tells them both, and they nod. “Where should we go?” 

Of course, there’s no question in it. They arrive at Kimbay’s forty-five minutes later.

\---

Christmas is drawing ever closer, and Kevin begins packing his things. He hates the last minute rush, and it  _ is _ exciting getting ready to go back to Utah, but then he finds that he gets trapped in thought cycles easily when his planning forward interferes with his everyday life. He doesn’t want to have to rush, sure, but what if he ends up not having enough clothes to wear casually before Utah? What if he accidentally packs the wrong tie at the bottom of his bag and then doesn’t have one to wear to school? What if he mixes up his Christmas sweaters and wears a rude one to his family Christmas dinner, or worse, to his third grade class? 

There’s a rap of knuckles against the door, and then Connor’s poking his head around, looking pale and tired like he so often does these days. He’s not been looking all that well recently, and that’s a whole other thing Kevin’s worried about. 

“Hey,” Connor says softly, and Kevin wonders if his voice is sounding croaky, or if he’s just imagining it. “I wondered if you wanted to go halfsies on a pizza.” His eyes wander over to Kevin’s suitcase and he frowns. “You going somewhere?” 

“I’m packing for Salt Lake,” Kevin tells him hastily, trying to act casual. “I’m going home for Christmas, remember?” 

“Oh.” Connor’s voice sounds small and (and Kevin’s probably definitely imagining this) a little disappointed. “I thought term didn’t end for like two more weeks though?” he asks after a moment, folding his arms across his chest and coming over to perch on the end of Kevin’s bed. He looks at the Christmas sweater Kevin has laid out across the bedspread and grins, picking up the end of one of the arms.

“Yeah,” Kevin replies, watching him nervously. “It doesn’t.” He raises an eyebrow. “What are you doing?” 

Connor lets the sleeve drop and turns back to him. “Nothing,” he says, then seems to realise he’s messed up Kevin’s organisation and hastens to straighten it again. “I like this one. This doesn’t look Mormon-approved though,” he adds, a smirk appearing on his face, as he traces the outline of the snowman getting drunk on the front.  _ On the piste,  _ the writing proudly declares. 

“Nor is it school-approved,” Kevin replies, grinning, as he returns to folding up some dress shirts (he’s discreetly tucked the underwear he was folding under the top of the suitcase, not wanting to be ridiculed either for the fact that, while not temple garments, they’re still rather plain, or for the fact that he folds them in the first place). “Sadaka got it for me last Christmas. I like it, I really do, but I can never wear it.” 

“I’d wear it,” Connor says brightly, and Kevin feels a funny feeling in his stomach. Something must have showed on his face, because Connor quickly shuffles away from it. “I won’t steal it, don’t worry. You don’t need to get jealous.” 

Kevin’s not sure that it  _ is  _ jealousy he’s feeling. There’s a part of him that quite likes the idea of seeing Connor in his sweater. “You can have it,” Kevin tells him after a moment. “It’ll be fine. I can’t really wear it anywhere in case I get recognised, and hey. It’s character development if I share, right?”

Connor grins. “Self-awareness is  _ very  _ attractive,” he says in a teasing voice, and Kevin tries not to preen. “You sure I can?” 

“Sure as eggs is eggs,” Kevin says, and when Connor looks at him blankly, Kevin tells him, “That means yes.” 

Connor pulls it on over his head, and the sweater immediately swamps him, the sleeves falling over the ends of his hands so that his fingers struggle to reach the end. He looks cosy and warm, and Kevin feels another flutter in his tummy. It’s probably because Connor just looks so snuggly, and Kevin likes things that make him feel snuggly. Connor often gives him a snuggly feeling, come to think of it. 

“This is so lovely and warm,” Connor says, grinning as he wraps his arms around himself. “Mmmm. It’s like wearing a hug.”

Kevin thinks he definitely looks huggable. “Suits you,” he tells him, and Connor beams.

“So you’re here two more weeks then?” he asks Kevin, and he sounds a little nervous. “You’re not going straight away?” 

“You’ll have to put up with me til the twenty-second,” Kevin tells him, and Connor grins again, before he forces his face to straighten out to a more neutral expression. “What are you gonna do with yourself? Going to visit anyone? Gonna stay with Chris?” 

Connor shrugs nonchalantly. “Nah,” he says, and it’s clear he’s trying to sound like he’s not bothered. “Chris is working this year. His mom invited me over to stay, which was like, super nice of her, but I just. God, I hate Cleveland.” He smiles, and Kevin feels his heart tug. “Nah, I’ll stay here. I’ll be alright, though. I’ll pick up some extra shifts at Kimbay’s in case anyone else is going home, and I’ll probably text Chris and Naba the whole day.”

Kevin remembers with a jolt that Nabulungi is going to Arnold’s for Christmas, and feels suddenly horrified that Connor’s got to spend Christmas on his own. “What if I booked you a ticket to come to Salt Lake with me?” he asks, because he’s not thinking straight, blinded by the panic of Connor being alone on Christmas Day. He doesn’t even know why this spikes his anxiety, but something feels so horribly off about the idea, and suddenly he’s worried about Connor getting lonely, sat in their freezing apartment by himself while Kevin tucks into a lovely turkey dinner.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Kevin,” Connor says, and his laugh is a little more genuine this time. “One, you’d never get me on a flight now, unless you packed me in your suitcase, and you won’t have room with all your ties and your tighty whities.” 

Kevin blushes. “I could too look for last minute tickets.”

“Two,” Connor continues, ignoring him, “it would be so so rude to spring a surprise guest on your mother right now. I don’t think even Russell M. Nelson would go down great right now, never mind myself.” His expression is very teasing.

“My mom would love you,” Kevin says, trying to believe what he’s saying. It’s not like his mother is explicitly homophobic, but that’s a water Kevin hasn’t ever tested, and considering she doesn’t even know he could identify the smell of coffee, never mind that his blood is more caffeine than water at this point, because he’s too scared to admit he’s strayed from some of his upbringing, makes him think that this might be something that doesn’t go down too great.

“Mormons don’t lie, Kevin,” Connor replies, clearly onto him as he kicks Kevin’s shoulder lightly. “I’m sure your mom is lovely, but I’d rather not risk it. No offence. And three. I don’t  _ want  _ to go.”

“Well, you don’t have to be so rude about it,” Kevin mumbles, cheeks still pink. He wishes he didn’t blush so easily. 

“Oh come on,” Connor says, and he slides off the bed to pull Kevin into a jokey hug. “I didn’t mean it like that, you big softie. I would  _ love  _ to spend Christmas with you. I just don’t want a big Mormon Christmas, you know?” 

Kevin supposes that’s fair, although he won’t concede Connor’s hug, wanting to tease him back now. “What if I cancelled my ticket?” he suggests instead.

Connor freezes. “What?” 

“You know,” Kevin says. “Like, I could stay here or something. We could have Christmas together here. I could do another turkey. We could invite Sadaka over if her dad’s working again.” 

“Absolutely not,” Connor tells him.

“Why?” 

“Because you’re not doing it, that’s why!” Connor replies.

“Oh, he’d  _ love  _ to spend Christmas with me, he says. Big fat liar.” 

Connor sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re not cancelling your ticket because it’s so expensive to travel at this time of year and I’m not having you lose your money,” he tells him. 

“I don’t care about the money.” 

“You will,” Connor says.

“No, I won’t!” 

“You  _ will,  _ Kevin,” Connor replies, and when Kevin looks up at him, he sees an expression he wouldn’t have expected there. Connor looks worried; desperate, almost. “You want a big Mormon Christmas. You’ve been looking forward to a big Mormon Christmas since September, and don’t lie, I know you have. It’s so,  _ so  _ kind of you to even  _ think  _ about cancelling your ticket for me, but then you’ll realise that I’m no fun on Christmas Day, and you’ll be cold in this apartment, and you’ll get FOMO about home when your brother sends you a snap of their dinner, and I just don’t want you to resent me, okay?” 

“I could never resent you,” Kevin says, although he has to admit, the description of events sound  _ exactly  _ like they could happen. Connor knows Kevin better than Kevin knows himself. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I know,” Connor says, grinning as he sits down, back against Kevin’s bed. “And I appreciate that. The fact that you’re even worried about me spending Christmas on my own is - well, it’s just amazing. I’m so lucky to have you and Nabulungi and Chris in my life. But,” he continues before Kevin can interrupt, “I  _ am  _ happy to spend my time here, honestly. So don’t you worry about me. If you really want, we can FaceTime on the day like some gross couple or something.” He sighs. “We can even watch a Disney movie over Skype if you want.” He says it like it’s dragging nails.

Kevin looks up, a stunned expression on his face. “But you hate Disney.” 

“Yeah, well,” Connor says, and his sigh is much more staged this time, “these are the things I’ll do for you. Just don’t go cancelling your ticket, okay? I’m not worth it.” 

“You are too worth it,” Kevin snaps in reply, but decides that he’s right. The last thing he wants is to resent Connor McKinley. 

Connor pretends to blow him a kiss, then lifts up another dress shirt and starts folding it for him as the door creaks open and John sashays into the room, plonking himself right in the middle of Kevin’s freshly laundered clothing. 

“John, no,” Kevin groans, as Connor starts laughing. “Ugh, he’s gonna get cat fur everywhere. I’m going to have to wash it all again.” He sighs as John looks up at him, purring. “You’re so lucky you’re so cute, you know.”

“That’s another thing,” Connor says brightly as he scratches John behind the ears affectionately. “I can look after John if I’m at home. So I won’t be on my own anyway!” 

Kevin nods, although there’s still something that feels sort of off about it.

\---

Kimbay’s is decked out in fairy lights, and it looks beautiful. 

“Oi!” Kimbay shouts at Connor as he and Kevin enter the café, Kevin looking around at the décor in admiration. It’s very subtly festive, but it feels all toasty and warm in here. 

“What?” Connor yells back as he leads them both up to the counter. A couple of customers turn around to look at them, and Kevin is torn between shifting under their gazes and lapping up the special attention of knowing the owner. 

Kimbay lifts a whisk from the side and points it at Connor’s chest accusingly. “Why did you not tell me you were spending Christmas alone?” she asks him, narrowing her eyes. 

“Because it’s not like it’s a big deal or anything,” Connor replies, before throwing his own accusing glare at Kevin, who puts his hands up in surrender. He’s trying to play innocent, but honestly, he doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong in letting Kimbay know. Kimbay will look after him. 

“Well, you are no longer spending it alone,” Kimbay tells him matter-of-factly. “You will come to my house. My husband will cook for us. You can pay me back,” she continues before Connor can interrupt, “in helping my children with their maths homework.” 

“But I hate math homework,” Connor replies with a groan. 

“Yes, well,” Kimbay says, grinning, “you wouldn’t be earning your keep if it was something you enjoyed. Anyway, you are coming to my house, no arguments. Ghali is coming too, aren’t you, Ghali?” she adds, and Ghali nods.

Kevin’s actually a little bit jealous. “That sounds like you’ll have the best time,” he says to Connor, who gives him a look that suggests that he’s onto him. “Go on, say yes. You’ll have so much fun, and then you can FaceTime me in the evening when you get home.” 

“You can FaceTime him when you are at mine too,” Kimbay says brightly. “I would like to wish Kevin a Merry Christmas.” 

“Oh, well, I’m glad you two are organising my whole day for me,” Connor says, but then he gives them both a smile that looks like he’s quite touched by their caring for him. “You don’t have to, you know, Kimbay.” 

“Nonsense,” she replies. “You are coming to me. It is settled.  _ You _ might be happy with being alone on Christmas Day, but  _ I _ am not. And besides,” she adds, smiling. “You can help me keep the kids entertained. They think you are funny. Goodness knows why.” 

“It’s because I’m a hoot,” Connor jokes, but he does look very happy with this proposal. “Anyway, we’re here to get Kevin a latte, because he’s in a vile mood and it’s dragging everyone around him down.” 

“Not true,” Kevin replies, feeling defensive, although he does have to admit that he has been a little on the grumpy side. “Connor’s making me go Christmas shopping with him. I hate Christmas shopping.”

“That is a fair thing to be grumpy over,” Kimbay replies, looking outside at the bustling street with a hint of distaste. “I do not care for this time of year particularly. I think everyone gets too caught up in the wave of consumerism.” 

“If it makes people happy, then why not?” Connor says with a shrug. “I mean, sure, it’s just one day and all, but I love the run up to Christmas. And you know, laugh all you want at me, but I still love Christmas. It’s still important to me.” 

No one laughs at him. Instead, Kevin nods. “Me too,” he says gently.

Kimbay clears her throat. “And what exactly will you be buying?” she asks.

“Can’t tell you,” Connor replies, “since you’ve all got presents on the list. Ugh, I’m gonna have to give you a better gift now. Unless you’re happy with my presence as your present?” he adds in a mock-hopeful voice, which Kimbay swats his arm for, before she places a latte in front of Kevin. 

Kevin sips it appreciatively. “Thanks.” 

“I love Christmas shopping, anyway,” Connor says. “And besides, I’m trying to monopolise your time right now, Kevin, before you go away to boring old Utah.” 

“Utah isn’t boring,” Kevin says defensively, before he realises he’s focused on the wrong part of that sentence. “And I told you I’d stay -” 

“Stay?” Kimbay interrupts.

Both Kevin and Connor look up at her. She has a funny expression on her face that Kevin can’t quite read. “Yeah,” Kevin says, voice uncertain. “But Mr. Grumbles over here decided to turn the offer down.” 

“Did he now?” 

Connor turns slightly pink but fixes Kimbay with a defiant stare. “And what of it?” he asks in a voice that sounds almost nothing like his usual tone, and Kevin laughs. 

Kimbay grins too. “Nothing, nothing. You are a very good friend to him, Kevin. You are lucky to have him, Connor.” 

“He is, isn’t he?” Kevin replies, grinning and nudging Connor with his elbow. Connor rolls his eyes. 

“Whatever,” he says. “Drink up. We’ve got like, twelve people to get through before we can go get lunch.” 

\---

The last day of term brings with it several presents from the parents, given under the guise of his pupils. Kevin knows they are from parents, because they are all lovely gifts, and not one of them features slime or fidget spinners. Rosa flosses the whole time Kevin spends opening the  _ World’s Best Teacher!  _ mug she has given him, and Sanjay dabs after he presents Kevin with a box of homemade jalebi. All of the gifts are lovely though, and Kevin smiles to himself as he thinks about how well he has connected with his class this year. 

He brings in a cake that Ghali made for him, decorated with  _ Well Done 3KP!  _ and complete with paper plates decorated by Connor. He lets them choose the Disney movie they want to watch (because those are the only age-appropriate movies he has on DVD) and they sit back and enjoy the last day before the holidays.

They’re halfway through Frozen (Sanjay and Akshay are having a competition over who can nail the high notes in  _ Let it Go,  _ and it’s so funny that Kevin’s not exercising that much restraint over them) when there’s a knock at the door. 

Kevin sneaks towards the door to go and see who it is, ready to apologise if he has the movie on too loud, when he opens it to find Steve Blade on the other side.

“Oh,” he says. 

“Oh,” Steve replies, and he looks as stunned and awkward as Kevin feels. “Hi, Mr. Price.” 

“Hi, Mr. Blade.” Kevin looks over his shoulder to check none of the kids are watching, and is relieved to see they are all still engrossed in the movie. “Is um, is the movie on too loud for you?” 

“Huh?” Steve looks confused a moment, and then shakes his head. “Oh. Oh, no, you’re good. I actually came to check because I was meant to have an appointment with Fiona today.” 

“She’s not in,” Kevin replies, trying not to say it too flatly, but not wanting to invite further conversation. 

“Oh,” Steve says, shifting awkwardly as he rubs at the back of his neck. “That would, um, explain it then.” 

“Yeah. It would.” 

Steve gives Kevin a smile, looks over his shoulder, and then says, “Listen, you got a sec?” 

Kevin lets Bhavni, the student teacher helping with his class, take control of them for a moment (they’re absolutely riveted by the film, so they won’t be any trouble) as he steps outside the room and into the corridor. 

“I just wondered how he was doing?” Steve asks after a moment.

He doesn’t need to specify who he means, but Kevin’s feeling like being a bit of a dick. “Who?” he asks in a cool voice. 

“Con.” 

“Connor’s fine, thanks,” Kevin says, and then he adds, “not that it’s really any of your business.” 

“No, no, that’s,” Steve begins, searching for words. “That’s fair enough. You’re right, sure.” He shuffles from foot to foot. “I wondered if you could give him a Christmas present from me? I bought it ages ago and I can’t get a return on it, so he might as well have it.” 

“Don’t you think that would be a bit awkward for you both, if you exchange gifts?” Kevin asks, because he can’t imagine it  _ not  _ being awkward. Then again, he’s never had a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, or, well, anyone. Huh. Maybe he can’t comment on relationships after all. 

“Well, see,” Steve says, and he gives this weird little chuckle, “this is kind of embarrassing, but I know what Connor’s got me for Christmas, and actually it was like, the one gift I actually wanted, and I know how difficult it is to get returns and -” 

Kevin cannot actually believe this guy. He stares in disbelief, mouth slightly open, at the pure cheek of what Steve is asking. “So,” he says slowly, “you want me to give Connor a gift under the guise that you still care about him just so you can get something you want?” 

“I do still care about him,” Steve insists, but Kevin scoffs. 

“No, Steve,” he says. “I’m not being your Secret Santa.”

“I’m not asking you to be my Secret Santa,” Steve replies facetiously, and Kevin groans.

“You know what I mean!” he snaps, then realises his voice has risen slightly. “Ugh. No, Steve. Just leave it. If you really want to talk to him, talk to him. Stop trying to get me involved. I’m not having him hurt any more than you’ve already hurt him.” 

“I’ll text him, that’s a good idea,” Steve says, and either he’s completely missed the point or he’s doing it on purpose, but Kevin can’t deal with this anymore. 

“Do what you want, Steve,” he says with a sigh. “Just don’t hurt my - my friend.” He opens the door to his classroom again. 

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Price,” Steve calls after him, and it takes all of Kevin’s might not to swear at him.

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Blade,” he says back through gritted teeth, and forces a smile as he goes to sit down next to Bhavni, watching as Sanjay taps Rosa on the opposite shoulder and then pretends to look innocent.

\---

“You didn’t need to take me to the airport,” Kevin says to Connor as they approach the security gate. The queue is building already, and there’s some very formidable looking guards skulking about, throwing suspicious looks at poor unsuspecting passengers. “I appreciate it though.” 

“Well,” Connor says, grinning, “I had a day off work and I love airports. Honestly, I’ll probably go get some juice and watch planes take off or something. No, really,” he adds when Kevin starts laughing, “I really like watching planes. It’s so therapeutic.” 

“Okay, okay, sure,” Kevin says, but he’s grinning as he nudges Connor with his shoulder. “You sure I can’t convince you to buy a last minute ticket?” 

“No, darling,” Connor replies. “I’ve got a hot date with Kimbay and her family, haven’t I? And also I bought John a cat stocking this year, and I cannot  _ wait _ to go through it with him. Oh! Before I forget, I snuck your present into your hand luggage. Make sure you don’t like, lose it, or open it or anything. It’s customs safe, don’t worry.” 

“I’ll save it til I FaceTime with you,” Kevin suggests, and Connor grins. 

“That’ll be lame,” he says. “Let’s do it.” He opens his arms for Kevin to hug him, and Kevin is surprised to find that he does hug him with quite some ferocity. “Loosen up, Kev, I can’t breathe,” Connor says, and he lets out a choked laugh that makes Kevin realise that he might be holding on just a touch too tightly. “I’ll be okay, man.”

“I’ll see if I can bring back some dessert,” Kevin tells him as he steps back. “Mom always makes too much, and… well, I’ll see.” 

“I’ll hold you to it,” Connor replies, smiling. “Now go on, or you’ll only be three hours early to the airport instead of four. Aren’t you only meant to arrive an hour in advance for domestic flights?” 

“I like to be prepared,” Kevin mumbles, and Connor grins, before producing a Starbucks gift voucher.

“This is for you to get a coffee on me in the departure lounge,” he says brightly. “You have no idea how embarrassing it was for me to go buy that, by the way. I’ve never even been into Starbucks before. That’s embarrassing, for someone as white as me not to know the first thing about that place.” 

Kevin snorts and pretends to clout him over the head, but he’s touched. “Thank you,” he says. 

Connor shrugs. “Merry Christmas, yeah?”

Kevin pulls him into another hug, ignoring his protests. “Merry Christmas, Con.” 

\---

Kevin wakes up with a pillow to the face on Christmas morning. “Connor -” he begins, when he blinks and realises that he’s in his childhood bedroom, his brother leaning over him.

“Not Connor, you dolt,” Jack replies, grinning from ear to ear with such a mischievous expression that it might as well be his roommate waking him up. “Which, by the way, raises the question,” he adds, and Kevin all but groans at the mischievous expression that begins to spread over his little brother’s face, “who  _ is  _ this Connor you speak of? Someone special?” 

“My roommate,” Kevin mutters by way of explanation. Then he frowns. “I’ve never mentioned him before.” 

“You did in your sleep,” Jack replies, and Kevin thinks he must turn magenta in colour, because Jack starts cracking up. “Don’t worry, it wasn’t anything incriminating.”

“I  _ wasn’t _ worried about it being incriminating,” Kevin says quickly, and Jack scoffs, hitting him over the head with the pillow again. “Ow! Stop that. Ugh, I haven’t missed you.” 

“Oh, am I not as fun a roommate?” Jack asks, and his smile is glittering, and Kevin makes to push his face away. The threat of his incoming palm has Jack dodging out of the way. “Merry Christmas, grumpy. Come on, get up. Mom’s making us have lunch with the ward, and she wants me, you and Martha to bake some banana loaf to bring before the service.” He pauses. “And you know Martha and I can’t bake.” 

“I’m not good at baking either,” Kevin begins to protest, but then Jack clocks him with the pillow a third time and Kevin finds himself groaning in frustration. “Alright, alright!” he snaps. “I’m up.” He sighs and drags his hands through his hair as Jack clambers down from the bed like he’s twelve instead of twenty-two. “Oh, and Merry Christmas, Jackie.” 

Jack salutes him and wanders off, presumably to annoy one of their other siblings (probably Martha). Kevin sighs and turns to check his cell phone. It’s only six in the morning, which means that it’ll only be eight in New York. The chances of Connor being awake are slim to none, unless he’s still not gone to sleep yet. 

Sure enough, though, there are a few texts through from his roommate, including one snap of a merry-looking Ghali and Sadaka with a grumpy-looking John.

_ Merry Christmas to my favourite boy!!! Also you, Connor,  _ Kevin replies, grinning to himself.

_ Oh, fuck off, Price, you’re not funny,  _ Connor texts back immediately, and Kevin grins, shooting back a Christmas tree emoji. A minute later, Kevin’s phone starts ringing.

_ “You are up very early, young man.”  _

“Hello to you too,” Kevin replies, grinning. “Have you been to bed yet?” 

_ “Noooo,”  _ Connor answers, and his voice sounds like the slidey toy Kevin’s mother bought Jack for his seventh birthday, and that his little brother had proceeded to traipse around the house with, following him about and driving him up the wall.  _ “I went out for drinks with Ghali, and then we bumped into Sadaka and made her come with us too.”  _ Connor yawns on the other end of the phone.

“Are you gonna go and get some sleep?” 

_ “Nah,”  _ is the reply, and Kevin feels a pinch of worry.  _ “Stop thinking. I can hear you thinking from here. I just have to get to Kimbay’s for lunch, don’t I?”  _ Connor yawns again.  _ “What’re you doing today, then? Ward dinner?”  _

“Yep,” Kevin replies, popping the ‘p’, and Connor laughs. “No, it’ll be fun, probably. It’ll be nice to see everyone. I’ve just got to remember not to swear or anything. I’m missing my coffee too,” he adds, dropping his voice to a hushed whisper. Connor cracks up on the ever end of the line.

_ “Speak up, darling, I can’t hear you over all the sinning.”  _

“Jesus Christ, fuck off,” Kevin grumbles, and Connor sounds even more delighted.

_ “You’re already messing up the no swearing! You’re such a terrible Mormon, you know.”  _

“Whatever, Connor, you’re such a pain in the ass, oh my God -”

There’s a knock on the door behind him, and Kevin panics for a moment, worried it’s going to be his father hearing his bad language. It must have been audible at the other end of the phone, too, because Connor takes in a deep breath as if it is him in the firing line. But when Kevin turns, it’s just his oldest brother standing at the door, smiling. 

“Happy Christmas, kiddo,” Daniel says to him, and Kevin lets out the breath he’s holding. 

“Merry Christmas, Dan,” he replies as his brother grins, claps him on the shoulder, and disappears again. Kevin can hear Connor laugh in relief on the other end of the phone. 

“ _ God,”  _ he says, and Kevin lets out a little chuckle himself.  _ “I thought you were in for it then. Anyway, I gotta go in a sec. Ghal’s picking me up. I’d better try and be on time or Kimbay’ll actually explode. Have a great day! Love you!”  _

“Merry Christmas, Con,” Kevin replies, smiling to himself. “Love you too.”

_ “Well, duh. I’ll Skype you tonight.”  _ Connor hangs up, and Kevin sighs to himself, hoping that Connor will have an excellent day. 

He deserves it. 

\---

“Earth to Kevin. This is Mission Control. We have an issue and it’s that Commander Price has zoned the hell out again.” 

“Jack!” 

“Sorry, the heck out,” Jack corrects himself, though he doesn’t sound apologetic at all. Kevin can hear the grin in his voice as he crashes out of his thoughts. “He has zoned the heck out, and we don’t know when he’s coming back. Oh, oh, wait!” Jack continues, and Kevin pulls a face at him. “We have contact! Nice of you to join us, Kev. That potato really pissed you off, huh?” he adds, nodding to where Kevin has been absent-mindedly impaling it with his fork.

“Jonathan, I won’t tell you again,” his mother chides, and Jack puts his hands up in surrender. “Mind your manners.” She swats him on the arm with her napkin and turns to look at Kevin. “He has a point though, darling. Is everything alright? You seem very distant today.” 

“Yeah, thanks, I’m just thinking,” Kevin excuses himself, and the way Jack smirks at him has his cheeks turning pink. “I’m thinking about all the things I have to plan for school next week. I’ve got a lot of work to do, you know.”

“Ah, of course,” says Kevin’s father from his other side. “No wonder you have to go home so early, son. You need to get a headstart on those kids, eh?” 

“I imagine he’ll be working particularly hard on New Year’s Eve,” Jack puts in, and honestly, he should be feeling lucky that he’s sat here with the entire ward, because Kevin wants to punch the little shit. It’s not like they don’t get on - Jack is probably the sibling Kevin is closest with - but his little brother could test the patience of a saint, and Kevin’s sinned far too often to be considered one of those. 

“I will be, actually,” Kevin replies, pulling another face as Jack laughs in delight. The implications go straight over his parents’ heads. 

As he and Jack are appointed to clean up the dishes, Jack nudges him with his elbow. “You’re pining, aren’t you?” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Kevin says hotly, because he doesn’t like what Jack’s implying.

Jack’s grin is shit-eating enough to give Connor a run for his money. “You wanna go back and see that roommate of yours, don’t you?” Before Kevin can defend himself, he shrugs, towelling a plate dry. “I’d rather be with my friends too, man. How’re you finding keeping the Golden Child act up this year?”

Kevin sighs. “It gets harder with each coffee. I’m having caffeine withdrawal.” 

Jack laughs. “You could drop it any time. Mom’s getting less and less angry when she tells me off. No less disappointed, but y’know, she still loves me.”

“You’ve always been a rebel, though, Jack,” Kevin tells him, and Jack shrugs in concession that this might be the case. “Dad’d come down on me like a tonne of bricks, and you know it.” 

“So?” 

Kevin looks at Jack like he’s grown an extra head. “What do you mean, ‘so’?” he asks incredulously. “I like having all my limbs. I like it when people like me.” 

“You don’t care about people liking you,” Jack replies with a scoff. “You just don’t like people being disappointed in you, or not respecting you. But what’s the point in being respected for a persona that’s all made up? I respect the new you a whole lot more than the old one. And you know what? I like you a bunch more too.” 

Kevin feels his lips quirk slightly at that, although his chest feels oddly tight and his stomach is aching with anxiety. His mouth tastes strange, and he thinks of a dozen questions he wants to ask Jack. How is he so comfortable with flagrantly breaking the rules in front of his parents? How can he have the confidence not to hide every aspect of himself in front of them? How does Kevin develop a sense of confidence like that? 

“You wanna come to New York soon?” he asks instead. Jack looks surprised, so Kevin continues, “You don’t have to. I just thought it might be nice. I know you got on with Arnold, and you can meet my new roommate. Remember Arnold’s girlfriend? He’s her best friend. He’s not like anyone you’ve ever met before. I’d like you two to meet.” And there’s truth to that. He’s not sure  _ why  _ it’s important for Jack to meet Connor, but it  _ feels  _ like something that should happen.

Jack smiles. “I’d like that a lot, Kev,” he says, and his voice sounds genuine. Then he whips the back of Kevin’s legs with the dishcloth he’s holding, and the balance is restored. “Now, come the fuck on. We’ve not got all day and I know for a fact Aunt Hilda is eyeing up the cake, and I want to get in there before she’s eaten it all.” 

\---

“Did you have a good time?” Connor asks him as he releases him from the huge hug he pulls him into upon Kevin’s arrival through customs. Kevin didn’t even realise that Connor had planned to come meet him, so at the moment he’s a little bewildered, though very touched. “Did you have your big Mormon Christmas?” 

“Yeah, it was okay,” Kevin replies, and Connor nudges him playfully. “I had some nice food. I took a picture of Temple Square for you too, as requested.” 

“Oh, awesome,” Connor says with a grin. “I love those lights. So why was it only  _ okay?”  _

“I missed John a whole lot,” Kevin replies in an equally teasing tone, and Connor laughs. 

“Well, of course you did,” he says, taking Kevin’s suitcase and wheeling it behind them. “He’s a fluffy prince. He took a dump in my bedroom the other day though, and that was not cool. I forgave him though because he’s just the grumpiest looking thing I’ve ever seen and I can’t stay mad when he’s so cute.” 

Connor continues to chatter on about John for a bit, but Kevin’s happy just to let the redhead’s ramblings wash over him. He’s only been away five days, he realises, but it’s felt like an eternity. He’s missed Connor to no end, and maybe he should read more into that, but for now it’s just nice to listen to Connor McKinley jabber on about anything and everything.

“Anyway, I’m buying you a coffee,” Connor tells him after a particularly long story about how John sat on his head this afternoon winds to a close. 

“You don’t have to buy me a coffee,” Kevin replies, although he’s been longing for one ever since he got to the airport. 

“Yes, I do,” Connor tells him flatly. He shrugs. “I guess I’ve missed you a lot, y’know? Is that dumb? That’s dumb.” 

“Well,” Kevin says, and a smile tugs at his lips, “I guess that makes two of us. Although, just to be clear, I missed John way more. Fluffy prince, and all.” 

“Oh, obviously.” 

The grin they exchange is lingering. Kevin tries not to think too much about it.

“Well then,” he says. “Mine’s a latte.” 

“I expected nothing less.”


	7. January

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's New Year's, there's a trip to IKEA, and 3KP pass their judgment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everybody! It's probably officially too late to be cheering that one, but hey-ho, here we are. 
> 
> I'm not as happy with this chapter as I have been previously and there's not a lot of plot going on, so you might have to bear with me, I'm afraid! But I'm quite excited about my February chapter so I'll see you all then!! I'm also just finishing up the final chapter for my other fic (Life Lessons) and messing about with a Nabulungi fic. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me!! <3

“I need a midnight kiss,” Connor declares loudly as he stumbles into Kevin’s side, “and another glass of wine.”

They’re at this bar that Ghali found on TripAdvisor two days before when they suddenly realised that Kimbay’s was going to be out of action. Kimbay and her family have gone on holiday for the New Year, and although Ghali’s been put in place as acting manager, she doesn’t trust them not to ruin her café if they host a party there. Connor pretended to be affronted for all of two seconds when she told them before he conceded to Kevin that she was probably right.

“I think you've had enough wine,” Kevin tells him with an amused smile. Connor blows a raspberry and gives him a thumbs down gesture. “And there's loads of eligible bachelors here. What about him?”

Connor snorts as Kevin indicates a bartender nearby. “He's not gay,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Really?” Kevin frowns and tilts his head to the side. The bartender seems to cotton on to the fact that someone’s watching him and looks up at Kevin with a wary expression, visibly taking a step back behind his colleague to try and break their line of vision. “I’d have definitely thought he would be.”

Connor shakes his head. “Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’ with purpose. “He's been making moon eyes at Naba all night.”

“So have you,” Kevin replies, and Connor shrugs.

“Fair point,” he says, “but she's like, the most beautiful human in the world and I can't help that I'm mildly in friend love with her.” He grips onto Kevin’s shirt to try and pull himself upright, and Kevin sticks an arm around his waist to hoist him up some more. “Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I should go find out if he'll take me home -”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Kevin says, catching Connor’s arm as he makes to start off and loses his balance almost immediately. “I don't think you should be going home with anyone.”

“Why not?” Connor whines.

“You're wasted, Con,” Kevin replies, and Connor pouts.

“You don't know that,” he says in a very hoity-toity voice. “I am the image of sob-” he pauses, then tries again, “sob… I'm not drunk,” he relents, and then trips, Kevin the only thing keeping him upright. He rests his hand on Kevin’s chest, fingers splaying where Kevin’s heart is. “Oh, this is _firm_ ,” he comments, and squeezes his fingers there.

Kevin feels the back of his neck turn pink. “Come on, let’s get you a water.”

Connor blows another raspberry at that. Kevin rolls his eyes, and starts to direct him towards the bar, when the countdown begins.

“Wait!” Connor gasps, digging his heels into the ground. “Wait, wait wait wait wait -”

Kevin turns to look at him. Connor throws his arms around Kevin’s neck. “Five,” he counts, grinning. “Four. Three, two, one.”

The scream of _Happy New Year!_ lights up the room, and Kevin and Connor look at each other for a long moment.

Then Connor leans up, makes a big display of kissing Kevin’s cheek, and then relaxes all of his muscles so that it takes all of Kevin’s core balance skills not to topple over. Thank God for the abdominal exercises he does in his room before going to bed each night, he thinks, as he struggles to keep Connor upright. (Of course, the fact that Connor’s _noticed_ the fruits of his labour doesn’t go amiss, either, although Kevin pushes _that_ particular thought into a box at the back of his mind. That’s his egotism speaking, he tells himself. That’s his egotism speaking, he tells himself, labelling the box with a _Fragile_ sticker and pushing it into his unconscious, never to be thought upon again.)

Kevin manages to manoeuvre their way over to a booth, deposit Connor in a seat, and then turn around to go search for Nabulungi and Arnold. When he finds them slow dancing (something that he doesn't _really_ want to interrupt but is a damn sight better than grinding), he taps on Arnold’s shoulder and clears his throat.

“Connor’s smashed so I think we're going to take off,” he tells them. Nabulungi laughs, and Arnold pouts.

“But it's only just the New Year!” he complains, and Kevin thinks he might be doomed to deal with whiny boys for the rest of his life. “Is Connor really that drunk?”

Kevin turns to look over to where Connor has flopped onto his back in the booth, laughing. “I’d say so.”

Nabulungi rolls her eyes and grins. “He’s been on the game since this afternoon,” she informs them both. “I’ve never seen someone finish half a litre of vodka so quickly. He drinks like it’s going out of fashion.”

Kevin thinks that’s a very accurate description of Connor McKinley, and he smiles fondly back at his roommate, when his expression quickly turns into that of a frown as he sees someone leaning over him.

The bartender is probably just checking on Connor, but Kevin marches over just to make sure there’s no bad intentions going on.

“You alright, Con?” he calls ahead of him, and the bartender startles. “What the hell are you doing?” Kevin asks before he can stop himself, overtaken by a protective concern.

“I just wanted to make sure he was okay,” the bartender explains hastily, showing Kevin the pitcher of water he's placed on the table next to him, and Kevin immediately feels guilty for jumping down his throat. He feels even more guilty for having left Connor on his own. “Look, dude, I don’t want to be the person who ruins your New Year, but I’ve gotta check that he’s alright. I’m just looking out for the clients, okay? Do you need any help to get him out of here?”

“Sorry, thank you,” Kevin tells the bartender apologetically, feeling embarrassed. “I’ll get him home. I’m his roommate.” He clicks the lock button on his phone to show that his lockscreen is a picture of the pair of them in their pyjamas eating ice cream on the couch, just to try and consolidate his point. He realises afterwards that he should have just proven that their licences have the same address, but the bartender looks like he doesn’t want to be speaking to Kevin just as much as Kevin doesn’t want to be speaking to him.

“Alright.” The bartender gives him an awkward smile and hurries away.

Kevin feels anxious as he watches the bartender leave, before he turns back to Connor, who, for his part, seems to have fallen asleep.

Kevin shakes him gently awake, and then pulls him up, throwing Connor’s arm around his neck and helping him to hobble towards the exit of the party.

Ghali is there to help after a moment, grabbing Connor’s other arm and slinging it around his own neck. As soon as he does this, Connor decides to stop cooperating, and laughs to himself as they drag him out of the party.

Ghali helps to get him into a taxi, and then smiles at Kevin. “Will you be okay to get him home?” he asks Kevin as Connor snuggles into Kevin’s side.

“Should be fine, thanks,” Kevin tells him, and he smiles gratefully up at him. “Thank you for your help, Ghal.”

Ghali smiles, pats Connor’s shoulder, and shuts the door of the cab behind them. “Enjoy your hangover tomorrow, Con,” he tells the redhead through the crack in the window. “And Kevin, make sure you enjoy his hangover too.” That gets a disgruntled noise from Connor and a laugh from Kevin as the taxi driver begins to accelerate.

Connor buries his head in the space between Kevin’s neck and shoulder, and Kevin wraps a protective arm around him as his roommate falls asleep again, his warm breath raising goosebumps against Kevin’s bare skin.

Kevin doesn’t think about it, just pulls him closer.

\---

Kevin isn’t normally a particularly late sleeper, but it’s gone midday by the time he wakes up, and he’s absolutely horrified.

He has three missed calls from his mother, and a series of Whatsapp notifications informing him that his family would like to FaceTime ‘when you get a spare moment, Kev’. Kevin blinks blearily as he scrolls through the groupchat warning him that they’ll be eating at twelve, and he wonders how he can sleep in this long.

When he stumbles out into the living area ten minutes later, he sees Connor sprawled on the couch, still in the outfit he wore last night, flat out. Kevin remembers depositing him there last night, putting a bucket and a glass of water down on the carpet next to him and then pulling the throw his mom got him for Christmas over him as some sort of makeshift blanket. Connor doesn't seem to have moved at all, and Kevin feels a brief moment of panic that he might have died in his sleep when Connor shifts, pulling the throw up over his head and groaning.

“Stop hovering,” he grumbles at Kevin, eyes still closed.

Kevin smiles. “How're you feeling this morning, sleeping beauty?”

He imagines Connor's response is something very rude, but it gets swallowed into the throw.

“I'm making some coffee,” Kevin tells him. Connor groans again at that. “Seriously, you should drink it. You'll feel way better.”

Connor groans in protest, but still doesn't lift his head from the couch. Kevin smiles, and shoots a quick text message back to his family group chat. _Happy New Year, guys! Sorry, had loads of school prep to do this morning._ He receives a series of text messages back, ranging from a _It’s New Year’s Day, Kev, you’ll work yourself to death, son!_ from his father to a _Gee, Kev, I sure hope you didn’t work too hard last night, you’ll give yourself a headache_ , followed by three shocked faces and a snake emoji from Jack. Kevin rolls his eyes and shoots his brother a private message that just reads _you’re a dick_ , then turns back to the coffee machine to try and sort Connor’s hangover cure out.

When he places the mug in front of his roommate a few minutes later, he’s greeted with another grunt, before there’s a rustling of blankets and Connor’s head appears from under them, his hair an absolute mess of red curls, face pale, expression miserable. He looks like he’s feeling very sorry for himself, and as Kevin smiles sympathetically at him, he supposes he is too.

“I don’t drink coffee,” Connor croaks, but he accepts the mug and sniffs it, before he blanches more. “Oh, God. I do not feel well.”

“Do not puke on my couch,” Kevin says as he lifts Connor’s legs so he can sit down next to him. Connor lets them flop back on top of Kevin’s lap and shakes his head. “Happy New Year.”

“There is nothing happy about New Year’s Day,” Connor replies, visibly swallowing as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “There is only regret. Regret and Pedialyte.” He looks up at Kevin with a pathetic expression. “Please tell me you have Pedialyte.”

“Sorry,” Kevin replies, and Connor flops backwards, the movement obviously being a little on the jerky side as he pauses, expression worrying for a moment. Kevin’s about to reach for the waste paper basket when Connor sticks his hand out, signalling for him to hold off a moment.

“We’re good,” he says, closing his eyes. “I can’t believe you don’t have Pedialyte. Do we have anything?”

“I think I’ve got some regular-strength Tylenol in the cupboard, and maybe an aspirin,” Kevin tells him, patting Connor’s knee as his roommate groans again. “Oh come on, it’s not that bad.”

Connor gives him a look to suggest the contrary. “I feel like death warmed up,” he says seriously.

Kevin can’t help laughing. “Had a good night though?”

Connor shrugs. “It was pretty good, to be fair, given that it wasn’t at Kimbay’s. God, I haven’t been out and it not be at Kimbay’s in like, months. I feel awful.”

“You look decimated.”

“Words of less than three noises, please, Kevin.”

“You mean syllables?”

“Too many noises, Kevin.” Connor sighs and pulls the throw around his shoulders a little tighter. “You know you have to do next New Year’s with me now, by the way, right?”

Kevin looks at him. “Why’s that?”

“You’re meant to end the year with the person you started it with,” he says, as if this news is obvious. “You were my midnight kiss, so you’re gonna have to like, not get a girlfriend so that I’ve got someone to kiss on the cheek next New Year’s Eve.” He sighs at that. “Ugh, New Year’s Eve. That’s if I ever drink again. I might have to give it up.”

“I’ll just drink your wine for you then,” Kevin replies, smiling. The look he gets for that one is photo-worthy.

“I said _might,_ Kevin,” Connor tells him. “Might being the operative word here. Oh, shut up.” He pulls the throw up over his head again, and Kevin pokes him in the thigh.

“Are you gonna get changed today at all?” he asks. “You’re still wearing what you wore last night. You stink of drink.”

“I don’t know if I can stand up,” Connor says, and he laughs a little himself. Kevin rolls his eyes as his roommate nudges his knee with his foot. “Did you have a good night, then?”

“Yeah,” Kevin replies. “Yeah thanks, I did.”

Connor sighs, rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I’m sorry if I was a state going home. Thanks for looking after me.”

Kevin remembers the feeling of Connor nestling in his arms during the cab ride home, and feels the goosebumps begin to rise again. “Well, you know,” he says, trying to shake off the reaction, “it wasn’t so bad. I guess as well you owe me now.”

Connor looks up at him with a cynical expression for a moment, before he allows Kevin the hint of a grin. “Alright, then,” he says. “You can cash it in whenever you want.”

Kevin relaxes against the couch, drumming his fingers against Connor’s leg for a moment as he casts a glance around the room. “We need to get some new furniture in here,” he comments jovially.

Connor glares at him. “ _We?”_ he repeats with a snort. “It’s your place.”

“Look at this stuff,” Kevin continues as if Connor hasn’t spoken. “It looks dire in here.”

“Shabby chic.”

“That can be our New Year’s Resolution,” Kevin says.

Connor lets out a horrified noise. “Don’t you bring me into this resolution crap,” he says, pointing a finger at him. “I hate that stuff. My resolution is to still be alive on the thirty-first of December this year. I’m not having any of your painting and decorating crap dragging me down into failure. Are you listening?” he adds, when he realises Kevin’s not paying him any attention.

“Sure,” Kevin replies, already on Pinterest.

\---

School starts again with little pomp or ceremony, and Kevin feels almost more exhausted than he did before the holidays even began. Still, it _is_ nice to see his kids again, even the naughty ones. _Especially_ the naughty ones, he thinks to himself, as he tells Sanjay to stop dabbing and sit on his chair like a normal boy.

It’s nice though to be back. Kevin misses school when he’s away, misses learning about all the new trends. He’s glad that the kids seem to have grown out of those abominable fidget spinners, although the flossing craze seems to have trebled in strength.

Kevin’s just telling them about this term’s school trip to the museum to help them with their project on Ancient Egypt with Miss Hatimbi’s class when Rosa’s hand shoots into the air.

“Yes, Rosa?” Kevin asks, preparing himself for some kind of exasperating question.

“Can Connor from the Aquarium come?” she asks, a slight whine to her voice. There’s a murmur of agreement to her question, and Kevin stares back at his class, thrown for a moment.

“And Miss Mukiibi!” Sanjay adds, and there’s another murmur of agreement.

“Not Mr. Blade though,” says Jorge, and Kevin tries not to smile as Rosa nods vehemently and Sanjay groans. “He’s no fun. He told us off when we tried to push - when we tried to rescue Liam from the touch tank.”

“Is this about the time Sanjay tried to steal the sea cucumber?” Kevin asks, and Sanjay looks up with an expression of pure innocence.

“It was for _science,_ Mr. Price,” he says emphatically. “You know science.”

“I do know science,” Kevin replies, once again trying to keep his face straight. “We’ll see when the time comes, but I think we’d rather have parental chaperones. Sorry, guys,” he adds as there’s a groan throughout the class.

“I liked Connor,” Rosa says sullenly. “He drew nice. He was way more fun than Mr. Price.”

“Mr. Price agrees with you,” Kevin tells her with a smile. “But it’s a long way off yet.”

“ _And_ he answered my vampire versus shark question,” Rosa continues, giving Kevin a hard look. Kevin’s always avoided answering that one - he keeps thinking of reasons for why both are viable and then gets stressed out.

“Well, bully for Connor,” Kevin replies, rolling his eyes. “Now, if we could get back to talking about Nefertiti -”

Sanjay blows a raspberry in answer to that, but it’s not long before they’re back on the topic of Ancient Egypt, Kevin casting a glance over to the What We Learnt At the Aquarium By 3KP board behind Rosa’s head with a fond smile.

\---

If there is one thing on this planet Kevin Price absolutely despises, it is IKEA. It’s the worst place on the planet, full of parents screaming at children and children screaming at parents, of partners arguing over where they’re going to put something called a _Liatorp_ in their tiny apartment, of teenagers bumping into people’s shopping carts while they walk about texting on their cellphones, of elderly people who have legitimately only come to the store for some Swedish meatballs. “It’s where couples go to die,” Arnold once said when Kevin had asked if he and Nabulungi wanted to come with him one weekend. Kevin’s inclined to agree.

Luckily (or is it unluckily? Kevin can’t really tell), Connor loves IKEA, and despite his initial reluctance to the idea of having this as a New Year's Resolution, he has put himself personally in charge of Kevin’s re-kitting of the apartment. It turns out that once the word  _resolution_ has been taken out of the equation, Connor's perfectly happy to be involved in the buying and construction of flatpack furniture.

“I’ve got a list, Connor,” Kevin says as they walk through the doors, Connor already eyeing up a sign directing them towards the potted plants. “I’m not deviating from it. The quicker we can get in and out of this hell hole, the better. Understood?”

Connor bites his lip, clearly trying to keep himself from smiling, and nods. “Yessir,” he says, saluting in a mocking way.

“That’s not a proper salute,” Kevin chides, but he lets it slide as he looks up at the escalator taking them to the showrooms with an expression of mild despair.

“You really hate it here, huh?” Connor says, falling into step beside him.

“Hate doesn’t cut it,” Kevin replies, and he can see Connor trying to hide his amusement as he shoots him a look to suggest he’s about to impart a great childhood trauma upon him (which, to be fair, he absolutely is). “I despise it. One time, when we went to the one in Draper, my mom and dad had such a bad argument that me and my siblings went to hide. You know what they were fighting over? A _bookshelf._ My brother Daniel took us off to go and get some of that weird berry juice thing they love. My brother Francis and my sister Martha fell out over scented candles. We lost my brother Jack for four hours and no one even noticed.” He pauses. “Which is weird, because you can like, _never_ lose Jack, he’s so loud.”

Connor grins almost sympathetically. “Sounds traumatic,” he says.

“It _was_ traumatic,” Kevin replies.

“We won’t fall out over scented candles,” Connor tells him resolutely. “If we just buy one of each, we’ll stay best friends.” He turns to take the escalators two steps at a time, and Kevin stands there, processing what he’s just said, before his eyes widen.

“God, no, we’re _not_ blowing my entire budget on scented candles, I swear to _God -”_

They make their way around the showroom with surprisingly few niggles at each other. Kevin’s patience is tested twice when Connor decides he wants to sit on all of the couches, _and_ all of the beds, despite the fact that they need neither of these particular furnishings. However, Connor _does_ restore Kevin’s level of respect for him by picking out the nicest-looking of the cheaper end drapes in three minutes flat.

“They’ll bring out the red accents in your room,” he tells Kevin as if this is obvious, before Kevin nods and pops a swatch in the basket to ask about.

Still, once they end up in the warehouse section hunting for the items they intend to buy, Kevin can feel Connor flagging.

“Come on,” he says, not turning to look at his roommate. Kevin doesn’t want to admit to himself that he’s flagging too. He hates this bit. He hates shopping. He hates IKEA. “The quicker we get it done -”

“Can’t I go back to the candles?” Connor groans, and Kevin turns to look back over his shoulder to find his roommate armed with a shoehorn.

"For the love of God," Kevin says, and then, as if trying to deal with a dangerous suspect, "put the shoehorn down."

Connor swings it violently out in front of him and then brings it back over his shoulder. “This is taking for _ever._ Do you even know what you’re looking for?” He raises an eyebrow. “Did you take measurements? Did you check your measurements against the measurements of the furniture?”

“Yes,” Kevin snaps.

Connor’s raised eyebrow is joined by its companion. “Do you understand them?” he asks, and Kevin groans, shoving the piece of paper with the measurements into Connor’s outstretched hand. Connor looks them over, and bites his lip, nodding.

It’s Kevin’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Do _you_ understand them?” he asks, rubbing at his arms a little self-consciously.

Connor pretends to gasp, before he puffs his chest out with mock-pride. “I know _some_ things about DIY, you know.”

It’s a testament to how much Kevin hates IKEA that he finds himself staring back at Connor with emphasised disdain. “I didn’t know,” he says, arching an eyebrow at his roommate. “Do you really?”

Connor nods, then sighs. “God, this bit is so _boring._ I just wanted some candles.”

Kevin bites his lip. He cannot believe he’s about to barter with Connor, but he’s also at his absolute wit’s end with this godforsaken furniture store. “If you help me find this stuff, I’ll give you ten minutes complaint-free candle browsing,” he offers.

Connor smiles. “Half an hour,” he barters.

It’s Kevin’s turn to sigh. “Deal,” he says, and Connor offers his hand, grin shit-eating. Kevin shakes it. “You’re not getting that shoehorn though, I can tell you that for nothing. It won’t go with any of our stuff.”

“We’ll see.” Connor smiles, swings the shoehorn back over his shoulder, and gestures for Kevin to follow. “Now, let’s go find out what size _Ypperlig_ you need, whatever the fuck that is.”

\---

Of course, it’s the actual construction of the furniture where they almost end up falling out.

It’s IKEA, so there’s at least three screws missing from the flatpack set, and Kevin finds himself close to tears as he stares at the directions with very little understanding.

“This is for _your_ fucking room,” he finds himself snapping at Connor as his roommate opens the door, holding a tray of hot drinks. Connor puts his free hand up in a _don’t shoot_ sort of fashion, which just serves to annoy Kevin even more. “And yet here I am, _left_ to struggle on through -”

“Alright, Scarlett O’Hara,” Connor replies, and Kevin can see it’s taking the redhead just as much effort not to roll his eyes as it is him. “Calm down. I know you’re feeling very sorry for yourself, but do try and remember it was you who sent me out for coffee in the first place.” He pulls one of the cups out of the holder and shakes it at Kevin.

Kevin would feel a little more guilty if it wasn’t for the fact that all these stupid diagrams look nothing like the flat pieces of wood he has spread out in front of him, and that none of these screws seem to fit in the hole he’s looking at, and it’s all so overwhelming that Kevin feels like dragging the alum key he’s holding through the carpet.

Connor seems to notice he’s beginning to spiral, because his roommate throws his bag onto the dining room table and comes to kneel next to him, placing the cardboard coffee holder down on the ground next to him. “Breathe,” he says, and Kevin feels Connor’s fingers ghost over his shoulder. Kevin breathes. Connor’s fingers rest a little firmer on his shoulder. “And again,” he says softly.

Kevin repeats this until things seem a little less fuzzy, focusing on the feeling of Connor’s fingers drawing circles against his shoulder. It’s soothing. It’s grounding. Kevin swallows and nods.

Connor leans in to look at the instruction leaflet. Kevin gets a waft of the cologne he uses. If he takes a deeper breath, well, it’s just to ground himself some more. “What are we looking at?” Connor asks, keeping his tone light and friendly.

“The fuck if I know,” Kevin says, and maybe the forlorn flavour to his voice has a hint more melodrama than he would have liked to have present himself with, but really, he can’t make head nor tail of this.

“That whole college degree thing is going really well for you,” Connor jokes, and maybe if it were any other time, Kevin would have awarded him a laugh, but at the moment, all he can bring himself to do is to look up at the redhead in disgust.

“We didn’t have _Flatpack Furniture 101_ on Wednesdays at 9am, you know,” he snaps, and he can see Connor trying not to grin. “All these paintings of screws are confusing the heck out of me as well. Can’t they label them?”

“I think it’s colour-coded,” Connor replies, peering over Kevin’s shoulder and pointing at something. When Kevin looks up at him, Connor grins. _"_ _Flatpack Furniture 101_ just so happens to be an elective at Kimbay’s.”

Kevin rolls his eyes and groans, dropping his head against the open instructions.

“Here,” Connor says, obviously trying to offer some sort of truce, “why don’t you go and sit down on the couch with John and drink your coffee? Leave this bad boy to me.” He rolls up the sleeves of the sweater that’s swamping him, and Kevin realises with a jolt it’s another one of his own.

Something twists in his stomach, but it’s not a bad feeling, so instead of resisting, he snatches the cup from Connor and makes his way over to the couch, not hating the way his roommate smiles at him. Connor has these cute little dimples whenever he grins, and they make Kevin feel something. He wonders if it’s jealousy, but then Kevin knows _he_ gets dimples when he smiles. Maybe this is just another thing that comes with friendship. He’ll have to consider it next time Arnold grins, or Nabulungi laughs.

His phone starts ringing, and Kevin shoots Connor a smile. “I’m cashing in that New Year’s favour,” he tells him, and Connor looks at him blankly, before he clicks what he means and rolls his eyes, grinning.

“Sucker,” he says, spinning the alum key between his fingers as if it’s a baton. “I’d have done this for free. You played yourself.”

Kevin sticks his tongue out and answers the phone to Sadaka.

 _"You sound like you are flapping,"_  Sadaka says as soon as he says hello. Kevin pulls a face.

“I am not _flapping,”_ he replies, tone disgusted. Connor laughs behind him.

“He is!” he shouts, and Sadaka laughs at the other end of the line.

“Fuck off, McKinley, you’re not funny,” he tells Connor, before he mouths _thank you_ at him, suddenly aware that his roommate is in charge of this particular construction project. “What can I do for you, Sadaka?”

 _"I am in the area,”_ she tells him.

“How mysterious of you,” Kevin replies. “Come over then.”

 _"You_   _sure you’re not busy with your husband?”_ Sadaka replies, her voice teasing.

Kevin frowns. “Arn’s not here.”

Sadaka sighs as if he’s just misunderstood the most obvious thing in the world. “ _Not Arnold, you idiot. Connor.”_

“Connor?” Kevin repeats, and Connor looks up upon hearing his name. “He’s not my - we’re not busy. Well, _I’m_ not busy,” he amends, grinning as Connor shoots him the finger. “Connor’s constructing an _Ypperlig_ shelving unit.I _think_ that’s how you pronounce it,” he adds, more to himself than to Sadaka. He's not really an expert on any of the Scandinavian languages. He's not really an expert on  _any_ language bar English, and even that's a struggle sometimes. “We’ve been to IKEA.”

 _"Fucking_ _dreadful place,”_ Sadaka comments, and Kevin cheers. “ _Alright, if you are sure I am not interrupting, I’ll be up in a moment. Tell Connor to pour me a glass of that awful wine of his.”_

“See you in a sec,” Kevin replies.

Sadaka doesn’t lie - she’s up within a few minutes, tops. The intercom buzzes so loud that Connor jumps and smacks his head against the kitchen table. Once Kevin’s gauged that he’s alright and hasn’t given himself a horrific concussion or other head trauma, he has to bite his lip not to laugh at his friend’s misfortune as he goes to let Sadaka in.

“That is looking alright, that is,” Sadaka says, nodding towards the half constructed shelving unit. “Look at you two, getting proper furniture together.”

“I know right,” Connor replies. “I thought I’d be having to use shoe boxes as a bedside cabinet forever.”

“Note that Connor made no financial contribution towards the new bedside cabinet,” Kevin says.

Connor gestures dramatically to the shelving unit currently under construction. “Manual labour,” he says pointedly. “God, you’re something else today.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Sadaka asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m just teasing,” Kevin tells her, and he feels slightly guilty about it. “Connor’s been good as gold all day. Gold star for him.”

“Oh, gee, Mr. Price.” Connor bashes the alum key against a screw, then looks amazed at his handy work. “Oh, I think we’re getting somewhere. Aha!” He pushes himself to his feet, stands the shelving unit up next to him, and takes a tentative step back. The unit wobbles slightly and then stays still. Connor looks amazed for a moment, before he collects himself, turns and grins at the pair of them. “God, I’m good.”

“I think that deserves a glass of wine,” Sadaka says, as Kevin offers him a hand to high five. “Well done. Now, where the hell are you going to put it?”

Connor and Kevin stop mid-celebration and look at each other, before they both look at the designated space where they’ve left all the other flatpack furniture boxes. “Sadaka,” Kevin says in his best imitation of one of his third-grader’s whiny voices, dragging the second syllable of her name out until it sounds ugly. “How much do you fancy helping us rearrange?”

Sadaka sighs. “Where do you want me?” she asks, and Kevin all but bows in gratefulness.

Two hours and a bottle of cheap wine later, and the _Ypperlig_ shelving unit looks like it belongs in the corner of the room.

“Look at it,” Connor keeps saying with the sort of fondness one might expect of someone referring to their child. “Look at my baby.”

"Our baby," Kevin corrects.

Connor gives him a look that clearly suggests he doesn't agree. "Might be your money, but I put in all the heavy labour." 

"That is fair." 

Connor grins, and sighs appreciatively as he looks back over at the shelving unit. "I'm not one to blow my own trumpet," he begins, and when Sadaka and Kevin look at him, he rolls his eyes. "Okay, maybe I am. But I think I've done alright here, don't you guys?" 

“You’ve done a great job,” Kevin agrees, throwing an arm around Connor's shoulder where they're sat on the couch.

“I know right?”

“So,” Sadaka says, trying to pour the bottle and raising it upside down above her head to peer into it when no more wine comes out, “what are you actually going to put on it?”

“Isn’t it enough just to admire my excellent DIY skills for the time being?” Connor replies, snatching the bottle from her and repeating her exact actions when it doesn’t appear to have magically refilled on his touch. “Why must we sully it with clutter when we can just appreciate the fact that I built that and didn’t actually have to take it apart again? Oooh, hi, fluffy prince,” he adds as John leaps up onto his lap.

“I’ve got some ideas,” Kevin tells Sadaka, deciding to be more helpful, Connor distracted by the cat. “I was thinking maybe a bowl for our keys, maybe some of Arn’s books, and I have a couple of photos I’d quite like to put out, you know?”

Sadaka shrugs. “Cliché,” she says, “but I guess it’s your apartment.” She looks over at the rest of their IKEA haul and scoffs. “Why did you buy so many scented candles?”

“Because, Sadaka,” Connor replies, returning to their conversation, “there is nothing wrong with two guys wanting their apartment to smell like -” he pauses as he reaches to grab a glass “- a spicy scent of bergamot and tea with hot milk, whatever the hell that smells like.” He looks up at her and grins.

Sadaka looks at him for a long moment. “Fucking white people,” she says, and Connor and Kevin both start laughing.

\---

At school the next day, Nabulungi gives him a couple of prints of some of the photos they took on New Year’s Eve. They’re all diabolical, if Kevin’s honest. He doesn’t look _nearly_ as good in them as he usually does. There’s a lot of red-eye and blurring, although neither of those are the main atrocity here.

“Who let me wear that salmon shirt?” he asks Sadaka and Nabulungi incredulously as he peers at the pictures, expression one of pure disgust. It’s not _that_ bad, but the colour seems garish in the prints, especially in any picture with Connor, who is wearing black. It’s quite tight too, and while Kevin would normally not consider that a bad thing, there’s one picture where his top button looks like it’s straining. That combined with a spillage of some sort of blue alcoholic beverage and the red eye he has going on makes him look positively hideous in his own mind. “Connor should have warned me about it.”

“Ah, as if he would have warned you,” Sadaka replies with a snort, and Nabulungi laughs. “You looked ripped in it. He would have loved that.”

“I’m sure he’s not objectifying me in that manner, Sadaka Mukiibi,” Kevin replies, pretending to sound affronted while he fights hard not to smile as he remembers Connor appreciating his muscles. Maybe wearing a tight shirt wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Kevin chastises himself internally at this thought - his egotistical need to be loved and adored is playing up again, probably. “Anyway, the Halloween ones are much better.”

“Oh!” Nabulungi says, sticking a finger up as she rummages around in her satchel for a moment. She produces a frame. “Late Christmas present,” she tells Kevin as she hands the frame to him.

Kevin turns it over to see that it’s the photo from Halloween that he’d admired at Connor’s birthday party. “You didn’t.”

Nabulungi grins. “You asked for a copy,” she says with a shrug. “I thought it might be nice to buy you a frame.” She looks at him. “It was this one you liked, right?”

It’s the photo of Connor and Arnold kissing one of Kevin’s cheeks each, all three of them trying not to laugh. Arnold’s Potter scar has all but smeared off his forehead, but Connor’s Ziggy Stardust makeup is still in tact, and Kevin - well, for the first time, Kevin’s not really looking at himself in the picture. “It’s perfect,” he says, looking up at Nabulungi, before he pulls her into a hug and presses a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you.”

When he gets home from work that evening, Kevin puts the photo of himself, Arnold and Connor from Halloween in the centre of the _Ypperlig_ shelving unit, flanking it with one of his roommate’s scented candles and the shoehorn he hadn’t noticed had been snuck into their shopping cart. It’s simple, but there’s something about it that makes the apartment look quite special.

There’s something about it, he thinks, that makes the apartment look like a home. And starting a home with Connor? Well, there’s something about that as well that doesn’t seem so bad.


	8. February

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a power cut, and some light is shed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya, it's me again! 
> 
> Thanks for all your support so far, it's so lovely to read! Here's February's chapter (haven't decided yet if I'm going to add a second half for this month)! 
> 
> For now, here's some more nonsense (with a gratuitous 3KP visit, because apparently I can't write a chapter without talking about fictitious third graders).
> 
> Warnings for a homophobic NPC in the latter half of the chapter. There is nothing too graphic, and his appearance is very brief, but he has some very outdated and unacceptable attitudes.

“So,” Arnold says, interrupting whatever Michael Burnham is saying on Kevin’s laptop screen, his voice hesitant. “Can I uh, can I ask your opinion on something, buddy?”

Kevin knows this must be big, because Arnold made him pledge a vow of silence back when they lived together that was not to be broken during any new episode of Star Trek Discovery. Kevin doesn’t even really like Star Trek Discovery (ever since he picked the wrong character to get behind in the pilot episode and found out that this was the unknown crew member who would be sacrificed for the sake of plot, he’s taken against it), but Arnold is obsessed, so for his best friend to talk during the episode must mean that it’s important. Kevin nods, leaning forward to hit the spacebar and pause their episode.

“Sure, pal,” Kevin replies, trying to keep his tone free of any trace of worry. “What’s up?”

“It’s nothing bad,” Arnold says, and then lets out a shriek of laughter. Kevin’s still not immune to flinching every time he does this, but he is quite fond of that bizarre laugh now in a weird way. “Don’t worry!”

Kevin knocks their shoulders together. “Uh huh?” he says, smiling slightly. “‘Cause you’re not doing an awesome job of keeping me from worrying, here, bud. Is everything okay? Is it Naba?”

Arnold nods. “It is Naba.”

Kevin feels his heart beat faster. “Are you - are you gonna need your old room back?” he asks, thinking about the fact that this could be awful. If Arnold and Nabulungi are breaking up, then that means that he’ll be literally caught in the middle, and Arnold will need a place to live, but Connor’s in Arnold’s old room, and Connor is Nabulungi’s best friend, and he’ll have to make one or the other homeless, and -

“What? Why would I need my room back?” Arnold looks confused, and Kevin’s tongue has dried right up in his mouth so he can’t reply. “I mean, no offence, but that room wasn’t even big enough for me on my own, never mind me and Naba _and_ Connor.”

“So you’re not breaking up?” Kevin’s throat feels tight, heart pounding.

Arnold’s eyes widen. He laughs nervously. “I hope not, buddy, ‘cause I was thinking I was gonna propose to her, actually.”

Kevin’s head spins for a moment, but then he feels a tide of relief wash over him, followed by excitement as he processes what’s going on. “You’re gonna propose? You’re gonna ask her to marry you?”

“Well, that’s what proposing is, right,” Arnold replies, and then laughs again as Kevin hits him in the shoulder. “What was that for?”

“You made me panic!” Kevin tells him, but he’s grinning now. “God, I can’t believe you’re going to get married.”

“If she says yes!” Arnold reminds him.

“Of _course_ she’ll say yes,” Kevin says, brushing him off. “You’re going to get married. Oh my God. Wait, if you have kids, will you name one after me?”

Arnold laughs. “You think it’s a good idea?” he asks, and he looks kind of nervous, and Kevin finds himself pulling him into a shoulder-hug. “I just love her a whole lot.” He shuffles and produces his phone, showing the tabs he has open on his browser. “I’ve been looking at rings, and like, all of these are awesome, but then I wasn’t sure if that was like, a Ugandan tradition, and then I wondered if I should like call her dad, or if that’s like, out of date and she wouldn’t like it, or like, if she’d even want to get married in the first place, or -”

“Arnold,” Kevin says, reaching out and squeezing Arnold’s forearm reassuringly, “she’ll want to marry you.”

Arnold grins. “I might be getting married,” he says, then laughs like he can’t believe his own luck. “You hear that? I might be getting married! To like, the most beautiful girl in the world. And she’s real!”

Kevin grins back. “C’mere,” he says, and pulls his best friend into a hug. “I’m so happy for you, Arn, you don’t even know -”

There’s the clunking noise of the lock turning, and then Connor stumbles in in a bundle of coats, looking more like a marshmallow than a human being. “It is _freezing_ out there,” he says, pulling his coat off and revealing the fact that he’s wearing at least two hoodies and a cardigan over his sweater. His nose and cheeks are very pink, making his freckles stand out even more. “Honestly, it’s like, thirty degrees out there. I practically skated home from Kimbay’s - am I interrupting something?” he adds, looking between the pair of them with a smirk.

“Nothing!” Kevin and Arnold both bark in unison.

Connor looks even more suspicious as he arches an eyebrow. “Uh-huh?”

Kevin grins and gives Arnold’s shoulder a squeeze. “Arn’s just got some good news.”

Arnold nods next to Kevin. Connor looks between them, but clearly decides not to pry. “Does anyone want a hot drink?” he asks, nodding to the kitchenette. “I need to warm up and also get these contacts out. They’re killing me.” He blinks hard on mentioning them, rubbing at his left eye.

“I’ll have a hot chocolate,” Arnold says, and Kevin gives him a smile that means he wants coffee. Connor nods, then mouths over Arnold’s head for Kevin to tell him the news later. Kevin mimes zipping his lips shut, and Connor rolls his eyes.

“So when will you do it?” Kevin whispers to Arnold when the sound of the coffee machine is loud enough to give them some privacy again.

Arnold shakes his head. “I don’t know, friend,” he says. “I gotta lotta things to figure out first, you know? But… but you think it’s a good idea?”

Kevin smiles as Connor places the hot drinks down in front of them. “I think it’s the best idea you’ve ever had,” he says to Arnold.

“You’re so cryptic,” Connor comments. “I’m going for a shower to warm up while you two have finish your man date or whatever it is you’re doing.”

Kevin pats Connor on the arm as his roommate makes to leave the room, and then grins at the look on Arnold’s face. It’s one of those smiles that could outshine the sun.

\---

Kevin is just writing up a lesson plan when he is plunged into darkness one Tuesday evening. Blinking, he waits for the lights to come back on, when he hears a voice going “Ah, shit.”

“Connor?” he calls out. No answer. Kevin sighs and pushes himself out of his desk chair, switching the torch on his phone on and stumbling out into the living room.

Connor is standing on the table by the fusebox, flipping switches to no avail.

“What happened?”

Connor continues trying to flip switches, and grimaces. “I was trying to fix the microwave,” he admits sheepishly.

Kevin sighs. “And you didn’t think it would be a good idea to - wait, since when is the microwave broken?”

Connor’s grimace grows some more. “Since last night. I think I tripped it with my hairdryer.”

Kevin is exasperated. “It’s probably just tripped a switch.”

Connor gestures emphatically to the fusebox. Kevin sighs more. “Budge over.” He clambers up onto the table next to Connor and hits his head on the ceiling.

“Mind that,” Connor says helpfully.

_“Thanks_ , Con.” Kevin rolls his eyes, and then flips all the same switches Connor’s been messing around with. Nothing works. He turns to look at Connor, who looks both sheepish and triumphant that none of them worked for him either. “Well done, Connor,” he announces. “You’ve short-circuited the entire apartment.”

“I’ll pay for an electrician,” Connor begins as Kevin rubs at his temples to alleviate the headache he can feel coming on. “I’ll wait in and everything.”

“Connor, you have no money,” Kevin says flatly.

Connor shrugs. “I’ll find some,” he insists.

Kevin sighs and shakes his head. He’ll phone for an electrician in the morning. For now, though, there’s not a whole lot more that they can do than find a source of light and get a takeaway. “Get all your scented candle shit out,” he commands decisively after a moment. Connor looks at him blankly. “We need to be able to see,” he explains.

Connor’s obsession with buying overpriced candles from every store he’s ever set foot in finally pays off, and soon the apartment is flickering with light (and smelling really quite lovely, actually). Kevin orders Chinese food for the both of them (Connor insists he doesn’t want any, but Kevin gets enough for three people as it is, because Kevin’s ravenous and he knows Connor’s going to pinch all his prawn toast).

Connor’s already googling names of local electricians to suggest to the landlord when his phone battery dies. He’s absolutely horrified. Kevin grins. “Guess we’re going to have to play a board game or something,” he announces.

Connor’s expression turns even more appalled. “I beg of you,” he says. “If you pull out Monopoly, I’m moving out.”

In the end they play chess, which it turns out Connor is actually quite good at, and then they play Operation, which ends with Kevin flipping the board impatiently when Connor keeps making loud noises to try and distract him. Connor also cracks open a bottle of wine, and manages to bully Kevin into imbibing (“It’ll go off without the power on in the fridge, Kev.” “It’s unopened, it’ll be fine.” _“I’ll_ go off if you don’t let me drink it, Kev.”), and they sit there, sharing a melting tub of ice cream and drinking wine, the candlelight flickering around them.

“So,” says Connor after a while, eyeing Kevin over the rim of his wine glass. Kevin watches the way the candlelight plays on his face, casting shadows across his sharp, angular features, and feels something. “It feels very slumber party in here, don’t you think? Tell me about your lovelife.”

Kevin is mid-glug of wine at this point, and he snorts at the question, meaning he sucks in his sip a little too quickly and ends up spluttering. Connor laughs delightedly. It’s a nice sound, Kevin thinks - it almost makes the embarrassment and the painful coughing worth it. “I almost drowned,” he tells him in a whiny voice, which only serves to make the redhead laugh more. He fences off Connor’s spoon with his own and takes a bigger scoop of ice cream as some kind of revenge, taking a bite from it and giving a mock-glare at his roommate.

Connor seems largely unfazed. “Well, with your reinforced fervour for life, tell me about all the sex you’ve been having lately. Or not having,” he continues, grinning wickedly at him, and it takes every ounce of energy Kevin possesses to will himself not to turn red at that.

“Have you been talking to Sadaka?” he asks, and Connor’s grin widens more, the light playing off of his smile. It makes his teeth look sharp. Kevin rolls his eyes. “She’s not a good source of information, you know.”

“I happen to think she’s an excellent source of information,” Connor replies, topping up Kevin’s wine a little, and then filling his own glass almost to the brim. “She gives me all of the gossip about your school. And gossip about people related to your school too. That’s how I found out about Arnold planning to propose to Naba, actually.”

Kevin looks at Connor for a long moment. “How the hell did you know that?”

Connor beams. “I know right, isn’t it great? We’ll be like, best-friends-in-law or something.”

“I can’t believe you know that. He only told me about that on the weekend,” Kevin mutters to himself, and Connor shrugs.

“I think Sadaka has a way of weedling gossip out of people that they absolutely don’t want to share,” he says. “I think I’ve said a lot of horrible stuff about Steve to her, actually.” He grimaces slightly at Kevin. “I’m kinda nervous, but then again, it’s not really stuff I wouldn’t say to his face.”

Kevin blinks. This is the first time Connor’s brought up Steve since their break up. Although Kevin sees him at work sometimes, at home he hasn’t been mentioned once, despite the fact that Steve constantly asks after Connor whenever he manages to get a moment to talk to Kevin. Kevin always shrugs him off, feeling protective over his roommate, and drops a comment about how great Connor’s doing right now. Maybe that’s not entirely true, but Steve doesn’t need to know that.

“Well,” Kevin says, shrugging after a moment, feeling like he needs to fill the awkward silence that’s lapsed between them, “he hasn’t picked a fight with me over your transgressions or slander yet, so I’d say you’re in the clear.” He’s still not really gathered the whole picture of what happened between Steve and Connor since that fateful Thanksgiving meal. He doesn’t really know that it’s his place to ask, though the thought of Connor crying his eyes out following their blow out still makes Kevin’s heart hurt and blood boil. _God,_ he hates Steve.

“Good,” Connor says, and his eyes look bright in the candlelight. “I trust Sadaka a lot, actually. More than Steve, anyway, so.” He shrugs, then says, “God. What a prick.”

“Who, Steve?” Kevin tries not to let his face light up too much.

“Yeah, Steve,” Connor replies with a bitter laugh. “Ugh. Maybe he wasn’t so bad. He was nice and stuff. He just… I don’t know, I just always felt like he was putting me down. Like… like he was ashamed of me, you know?” Kevin doesn’t know, because Kevin can’t imagine how anyone could be ashamed of Connor McKinley.

“What do you mean?” he asks, not wanting to pry, but also at the same time absolutely wanting to.

Connor sighs. “Just like,” he begins, then swallows heavily. “Like, things he’d say. Like, the fact that he didn’t really like me working at Kimbay’s, and, and he was trying to get me to apply for other jobs, but I’m literally qualified for nothing, and he laughed and told me it was a good job I was pretty, because…” He trails off, letting out a humourless laugh. Kevin feels his chest tighten. “And then he asked if he could meet my family once, and I just, you know, I told him that we don’t talk, and he just wouldn’t drop it. He kept on asking if I wanted his help to try and bridge the gap. Like, I told him that the whole reason we fell out was because I was gay so I didn’t think it was likely that a guy I was sleeping with was going to heal the rift, and he just made a comment like…” Connor’s voice cracks. He takes a deep breath, tests the waters with a hum, and then continues. “Like it was on _me_ that we don’t talk. Not that they’re homophobic and abusive and that. Like it was _my_ personality that drove _them_ away.”

Kevin’s chest feels tight as he watches Connor drain his wine glass and move to fill it again. “You didn’t,” he tells him, and it feels like such a weak reassurance, but it’s so obviously not Connor’s fault, and he’s not sure if Steve’s managed to convince him otherwise. Connor snorts.

“I’m quite annoying, Kevin, if you haven’t noticed.” Connor runs a hand through his hair, expression unreadable in the dim light. “Apparently I have a very, what did he say? Oh right. An _abrasive personality.”_ He snorts. He sounds bitter, and his voice is cracking, and Kevin can’t bear it. “I don’t know. He just didn’t make me feel good about myself. And I don’t normally feel that great about myself anyway,” he adds in a whisper, and Kevin’s chest is painful.

There are some people in life who just have rotten luck. Kevin’s starting to realise that Connor McKinley is one of these people. He’s full on, sure, and it took Kevin a few weeks to warm up to him - he’s an extrovert by nature (though _abrasive_ is a word Kevin doesn’t think he’d ever match to him) - but he’s also so passionate, and a friendship with Connor McKinley is like nothing else. He’s aggressively caring, furiously affectionate, and Kevin gets the feeling that he’d defend anyone he thought was facing an injustice, friend or foe. Kevin is overwhelmed with affection for this redheaded ball of energy, and it hurts him to think that Connor can’t recognise all of these incredible qualities that make him so inherently… _him._

The candlelight still flickering off of his face, Connor suddenly looks small, small and tired and so incredibly sad, even while he’s smiling that hurt little smile. Kevin wants to do something, say _something,_ that might help cheer him up a little.  

“If it makes you feel better,” Kevin says, leaning forward conspiratorially, and Connor raises an eyebrow, “I think Steve’s starting to show signs of male-pattern baldness.”

Connor’s face lights up a little, and although his delighted gasp is mostly teasing, Kevin can’t help but believe that his smile is genuine. “That _is_ an interesting development. Tell me more.”

Kevin laughs and shakes his head, and sips his wine (he’s still on his first glass; Connor’s in the middle of sinking his fourth), watching the shadows dance across Connor’s skin. “I’ll keep you updated.”

Connor grins and sighs, before clapping his hands together, suddenly with a brighter demeanour. It seems sort of forced, but Kevin doesn’t want to push it. “Come on,” he says, leaning forward. “Tell me something about you. You seeing anyone?”

Kevin snorts and raises an eyebrow. “I thought Sadaka’d caught you up on my love life.”

“I know, but it’s polite to ask, isn’t it?” Connor says, and his grin is so cheeky that Kevin can’t help the fond feeling spreading as he makes to swat his roommate.

“I guess I’m just doomed to be single for all eternity,” Kevin says after a moment with a sigh. Connor pouts at him, and Kevin shrugs. “I’m resigned to the fact that _that_ is the truth.”

“Come on, now,” Connor says, leaning forward. For a moment, Kevin thinks Connor’s going to take his hand. Connor doesn’t; instead he moves his ocean mist candle he bought from IKEA out of the way slightly. Kevin coughs to disguise the fact that he can feel the ghost of imagined fingers over his. He wiggles them in reflex nonetheless. “There’s someone out there for you, Kevin. What about that girl from work you and Sada are always chatting about? Kalimba.”

“Kalimba’s married,” Kevin tells him flatly. “Also, Kalimba really terrifies me. Like, I love her, but I would never want to cross her. Also, she’s like forty.”

“Older woman,” Connor says in suggestion, but he drops it. “Okay, so not Kalimba. I’m so upset I haven’t met her yet, she sounds _awesome_.”

“She is pretty cool,” Kevin concedes. “But don’t worry about me. I’m happy being single. It means you get to do what you want.”

Connor thinks about it a moment. “I’m not so sure,” he says. “I mean, I’m so happy not to have anyone on at me about my friends, and my friends are far more important to me than he ever was, but then, at the same time…” He trails off.

“At the same time?” Kevin prompts.

Connor looks slightly pink in the candlelight. “Promise you won’t laugh,” he says nervously. Kevin mimes crossing his heart, already feeling a smile creeping onto his face. Connor glares, but continues, “I kinda miss having someone to cuddle me. Shut up,” he adds, before Kevin even has a chance to say anything.

“Gee, Con,” he says, poking Connor’s knee with his foot, “if you wanted to spoon me, all you had to do was ask.”

“This is why we don’t talk about our feelings,” Connor snaps, but he’s laughing too. He rolls his eyes at Kevin and stabs the ice cream with his spoon again, before he points it at Kevin accusingly. “And for your information, Mister,” he says, and Kevin smirks, “I’m _always_ the little spoon. So you’d be spooning _me_ , thank you very much.”

Kevin rolls his eyes. “I’ll bear that in mind,” he says, and if he relishes in the smile that lights up Connor’s face in a whole other way to the candles flickering off it, well. That’s a thought for another day, another time, another Kevin.

\---

Kevin gets a text through when he checks on his phone at lunch (it’s been charging in Sadaka’s office - he’d tried to leave it to charge in the staffroom, but had ended up almost in tears at the prospect of leaving it unattended, until Sadaka proved why she was one of Kevin’s best friends and took it off to plug it in under her desk without so much as batting an eyelid). It’s from Connor, declaring that he’s found an emergency electrician who will come round as soon as possible (because apparently ‘emergency’ for this particular trader means cutting the wait time down to a week instead of two). Kevin texts him back a few rows of heart-eye emojis and then grins at Sadaka.

“Are you electric woes almost over?” she asks him as she takes in his expression, pushing a coffee she’s just made towards him as he takes a seat at her desk.

“Mmhmm,” Kevin says, taking a sip from the cup. The coffee is delicious. “It’s almost a shame, really.”

“What do you mean?” Sadaka asks, frowning at him with the same level of bewilderment as if he had just told her that he thought that Genghis Khan was a bit misunderstood. “You must have had such a boring night without electricity. What did you do, just sit there and stare at each other?”

“Well, yeah, kind of,” Kevin admits, and Sadaka’s eyebrows shoot up, and she gives a little disbelieving laugh. “But it was fun! Honestly. It was like,” he continues, determined to prove his point that it’s a good thing and he’s not barking up the wrong tree, “so, you know how Connor collects all these scented candles, right? Like, oh my God, the other day in IKEA he spent so much money on them, but actually they came in handy because we lit them all and the apartment smelt _amazing_ and then we ordered takeout. And it was delicious. And we ate all the ice cream in the freezer, and we just sat and chatted a while, and everything was just so mellow and calm and nice.” When he finishes, he looks up at Sadaka again triumphantly, waiting for her to give him a nod of understanding. Instead, he finds her just staring at him, a puzzling expression on her face. “What?”

“You and Connor are close, eh?” she says, and Kevin thinks that’s the stupidest question he’s ever heard.

“Well, yeah, duh,” he replies, a little laugh escaping. “I mean, it’s not like we live together or anything.” He rolls his eyes, waiting for her to realise her stupidity.

Instead, Sadaka leans back in her chair. “You like each other?”

“He’s one of my best friends.” Kevin still doesn’t understand his point.

“Oh, _best friends,”_ she replies, and a smirk appears on her face. “Is that what they’re calling it now?”

Kevin’s not sure he likes where this is going. “Calling what?”

“It sounds to me, Kevin,” she says, and she turns away from him to start organising a stack of papers that Kevin _knows_ have been sat on her desk for months, “like you went on a date.”

There’s no other description for the sound Kevin makes than spluttering. “It was _not_ a date,” he tells her adamantly as it’s her turn to smile triumphantly. “It wasn’t! It was just two guys, y’know, being guys, sharing a takeout -”

“Having a candlelit dinner because they are not gay,” Sadaka interrupts, and her expression is gleeful. “Did you split a bottle of wine too?”

_“No,”_ Kevin says, dragging the word out, and then looks down at his lap to hide the fact that his cheeks are turning pink. “Connor drank most of it.”

“Oh, fan _tas_ tic,” Sadaka says, and she’s grinning. “That was _so_ a date. How was that not a date?”

“Look, two guys can share a candlelit dinner and talk about their feelings and _not_ be sleeping together, just so you know,” he says, tone defensive, and Sadaka’s smile softens.

“Maybe I misread the situation,” she amends, but there’s a glint in her eye that doesn’t quite match up to her tone.

Kevin makes a harrumphing noise. “Maybe you did,” he says moodily, and he folds his arms across his chest like his third graders do when they’re sulking, trying desperately not to think about how there might be some truth in her words. He doesn’t need to think about that.

Sadaka passes him a cookie by way of offering an armistice, and Kevin takes it, a smile creeping back to his face. “All I would say,” Sadaka says lightly, “is maybe you should evaluate your friendship.”

“There’s nothing _to_ evaluate,” Kevin tells her through a mouthful of biscuit. “He’s my best friend. I’d do anything for him.”

Sadaka gives him a look that he can’t quite read, her lips pursed around words she’s obviously choosing not to share, one eyebrow slightly raised, hands together on her lap. Kevin doesn’t know what it is she wants to suggest, but he doesn’t like it one bit.

“Oh shut up,” he says in response to her expression, and then turns to his phone to see that Connor has sent him two kissy face emojis in reply.

\---

Sadaka’s words stick with Kevin for the rest of the day.

He tries to push them aside as he runs through a math activity, getting his kids to trade counters and figure out little puzzles, tries to quash them as he leads them through guided reading time. He definitely tries to squish them down as he helps Sanjay with his spellings, the _What We Learnt At The Aquarium by 3KP_ board a fluorescent blue behind him. But no matter how hard he tries, they’re still there, sitting at the forefront of his mind. _You like each other._

Does he like Connor? Sure, he’s one of his best friends in the world. He’d do anything for him, indisputably. But Kevin likes to think he’d do anything for Arnold, or Nabulungi, or even Sadaka. (He’d really like to think he’d do anything for anyone, but even Kevin knows that’s not true. He might be getting less and less selfish as every year goes by, but he still has his limits, and actually, he’s massively improved ever since he met Arnold, so, small victories.) So does he _like_ Connor?

_No,_ he thinks to himself as he marks the spelling tests at the end of the day once the kids have gone home, frowning at the slithers of sunlight creeping out of his classroom as the evening begins to draw in. _I’d do anything for Arnold. I’m not in love with Arnold or anything, so clearly I don’t_ like _like Connor. Duh._ He scoffs aloud to himself, and puts a smiley face above Ruby’s test paper for getting ten out of ten.

But then, he thinks, he feels differently about Arnold to how he feels about Connor. Arnold is indisputably the best person Kevin’s ever met. He’s shaped Kevin’s life in a way he’d never have expected, twisted it into a direction he’d never anticipated, and it’s undeniably for the better. Kevin loves him with that deeply fierce love reserved only for his very favourite people, and he knows that it will never ever fade. He thought up until three hours ago that that was the love he felt for Connor too.

But Connor is different, he thinks. Where Arnold is upfront and face value, Connor is more complex, more difficult to read, more guarded. They’re both sunshine, but Connor has this deep underlying pain that he tries to keep squashed down, but that seeps out around Kevin sometimes, makes Kevin want to take on the world for him.

The love Kevin feels for Arnold clears everything up for him, guides him, makes him feel toasty and warm. The love Kevin feels for Connor makes Kevin’s brain fog over with confusion sometimes, makes his lungs tight, makes his chest hurt.

No. He’s being stupid. Kevin rolls his eyes and pinches his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes tight and leaning forward onto his elbows, and sighs. Sadaka’s just got in his head, and she’s clearly teasing, and he’s being ridiculous. He doesn’t _like_ Connor; he’s a grown man who is totally self-aware and knows his own feelings.

And even if he _did_ have feelings, which he _doesn’t,_ it would be totally inappropriate. Connor’s like a brother to him.

Kevin keeps telling himself that as he starts to mark Rosa’s test, rubbing his temples as he tries to convince himself he’s paying attention.

\---

When Kevin gets home from work, he hears the murmurs of voices indicating that the electrician is already there. He hears Connor saying “Oh, okay” in a voice that sounds slightly tense, and then he hears a gruff laugh.

“Hello?” Kevin calls out, and then Connor’s head pokes out from around the corner where the kitchenette is tucked away.

“Hey,” he says, and he sounds a little relieved. A second later, a man with wiry grey hair appears over Connor’s shoulder.

“Ah, are you the lead tenant?” he asks cheerfully, and when Kevin confirms, the electrician puts his hands on Connor’s waist, moves him bodily out of the way, and offers his hand out for Kevin to shake. “Excellent. Name’s Ray. Come on over, I’ll show you what you’ve got going on.”

He explains the situation to Kevin, using terms that he absolutely does not understand and speaking very fast. Connor leans against the counter behind them, a muscle in his jaw jumping.

Kevin sends him a questioning look, and Connor just shakes his head as Ray continues jabbering on, instead pouring himself a glass of wine, knuckles white against the stem.

“So, I can give you a quote then,” Ray says, and at that moment, John leaps up onto the counter, almost knocking Connor’s wine glass over.

“John!” Connor all but groans, scooping him up into his arms. Kevin watches as Connor scratches the cat behind his ears, sighing as he does so.

Ray looks up at that. “John?” he repeats. Connor nods. “Weird name for a cat.” He tries to exchange a glance with Kevin, who in turn is trying his best to keep stoically polite, seeing Connor bristle over Ray’s shoulder.

“We adopted him with that name,” Kevin replies, and Connor adds through gritted teeth, “ _I_ think it’s a lovely name.”

Ray snorts, and tries again to share a look with Kevin, who drops his eyes to the floor. Connor goes to take John out of the room and deposit him somewhere else. Kevin sees the expression Ray has on his face as he watches Connor leave. He doesn’t like it one bit.

“Anyway,” Ray says, turning to clap Kevin on the shoulder. “Quote. So, for the work -”

“Do you mind holding on a moment?” Kevin asks. Ray looks at him as if he doesn’t quite understand. Kevin nods towards the door where Connor has just gone and then adds by way of explanation, “I just think this is really something I should check with Connor first.”

“No, I get you, you gotta check with the missus,” Ray says, grinning, and Kevin turns to look at him, absolutely shocked by what he’s just said.

“Excuse me?”

Ray grins, giving Kevin what Kevin thinks is supposed to be an understanding look. “I know my wife would hit the roof if I just went ahead and spent all our money without consulting her, even if she doesn’t have a clue what I’m on about.”

Kevin is appalled. “I’m checking with him because he actually knows a tonne more about this kind of stuff than I do,” he says, tone cool, and Ray puts his hands up in surrender. Kevin can feel his blood beginning to boil.

“I would not have guessed that,” Ray says with a chuckle, “but to each his own. He won’t get prissy?” he adds, tapping Kevin’s shoulder. Kevin’s annoyance is spiking, thrumming in his veins.

“You know what?” he says, pushing himself to his full height. “I don’t think we’ll be doing business with you, sir.”

“Now, hold on, son,” Ray replies, and he’s still doing that irritating little laugh, and Kevin’s seeing red. “You don’t have to get all like that. I’m just saying your boyfriend seems a bit -”

“I don’t care what he seems, or what you think,” Kevin snaps, and he’s furious. “It’s one thing to come into my house and try and rip us off for something, but to be consistently rude to my roommate, and then to insult him behind his back? We don’t need your poorly concealed homophobia in here, sir, so I’d like you to leave, please.” Ray looks like he’s about to argue, and Kevin cuts him off, saying, “If you don’t leave now, I’m gonna call the police. Your choice.”

Ray mutters something that Kevin almost flinches at, but picks up his toolkit when Kevin reiterates his threat. He’s just leaving when Kevin adds, “And also, insulting my cat? Dick move.” He slams the door behind their unwanted guest and turns around to lean against the wood, sighing. When he opens his eyes, he sees Connor watching him, expression unreadable.

They stand there for a moment, watching each other. “You kicked him out,” Connor says finally, voice quiet.

“Before you start,” Kevin says, pushing himself off of the door and raising a hand to silence his friend, “I know you can fight your own battles, but I’m not having him being a dick in my apartment and insulting you and just, I don’t know, sitting there and taking it -”

Connor holds his own hand up to silence him. “Thank you,” he says softly, and Kevin swallows his rant.

That’s not really the response Kevin expected. He didn’t kick out that man for thanks. “Yeah, well,” Kevin says, shuffling awkwardly. “He was being rude about my cat.”

Connor grins, rolls his eyes, and crosses the room to pull Kevin into a hug. Kevin can smell his laundry detergent. “You didn’t correct him,” Connor says lightly as he pulls away. “When he called me your boyfriend. You didn’t correct him.”

“Does that matter?” he asks, perplexed, but then his cheeks start to heat up. What if Connor’s embarrassed of Kevin? “He was being awful about you. I wasn’t going to put him straight first and _then_ fight him on his bigotry.”

Connor shrugs. “It doesn’t, I guess,” he replies.

Kevin nods. “Well,” he stammers, “well, good, then.”

“Yeah, good.” Connor’s eyes are oddly piercing. “I guess I should find John, then.”

“I guess I should look for another electrician,” Kevin levels.

“Um. Okay. Good.”

“Good.”

That should be the end of that, but they hold each other’s gaze for a moment, and there’s a funny half-smile on Connor’s face that Kevin thinks he’ll be over-analysing for days.

John streaks out from under the table, breaking their gaze, and Connor grabs a packet of treats from the kitchen counter, trying to coax him from his new hiding place as he follows after him. Kevin watches his back, feels his eyes wander.

“Oh,” he mumbles to himself, before he pulls out his cellphone.

[18:52:33] Kevin Price: fuck

[18:52:50] Sadaka Mukiibi: ????

[18:53:40] Kevin Price: I hate saying you’re right but

[18:53:47] Kevin Price: You’re right

[18:54:55] Sadaka Mukiibi: i have taken a screenshot of this moment

[18:54:58] Kevin Price: :’( :’(

[18:55:11] Kevin Price: I’m not supposed to have ~feelings~

[18:55:32] Sadaka Mukiibi: oh my poor little white boy

\---

“What do I do?” Kevin asks for about the seventh time in as many minutes.

Sadaka has been displaying a legendary amount of patience throughout this whole interaction, although it’s starting to wear thin. “I have told you, Kevin,” she says, and he can hear her swallowing the sigh that is desperate to leave her lips. “You need to talk to him. Communication is key.”

“I can’t talk to him, that’s a dumb idea,” Kevin replies, and Sadaka doesn’t hide the frustrated groan that comes out of her mouth. “What! I can’t talk to him because if he doesn’t like me I live with him, and that’s going to be awful, and then he’ll move out and I’ll either never see him again _or_ I’ll end up seeing him again and it’ll be super awkward when Arnold and Nabulungi finally get married. Which you never told me about, by the way,” he adds with an accusing look. “How the hell do you know about him planning to propose? He literally just told me. I can’t believe you knew and didn’t mention it. I thought we were close.”

Sadaka taps the side of her nose.

Kevin looks at her suspiciously. “Seriously, if you don’t tell me, I’m just gonna assume you’ve started phone tapping or something.”

Sadaka’s smile is teasing as she completely ignores his question. “So, when are you going to tell him?”

“You wash your mouth out, I am never telling him anything,” Kevin replies, his expression horrified.

“Why not?”

Kevin gapes at her for several seconds. “Weren’t you listening?” he says, and Sadaka rolls her eyes and pats his arm.

“I do not see a problem with you telling him,” she says as a waiter comes over with a notepad and a cheery expression that has no place in this exchange. “Hello, yes, can we get some tap water and some breadsticks please? Kevin, order something.”

The waiter turns to look at Kevin with a bright smile, which Kevin immediately tries to shut down with a stony expression of his own. It takes Kevin a few moments to realise this poor kid has done nothing wrong, before he sighs and tries a smile. “Can I just get a salad for now?” he asks. As the waiter nods and scurries off, Kevin turns to Sadaka again and groans.

Sadaka rolls her eyes. “You are really quite pathetic.”

“Don’t rub it in.” Kevin sighs heavily again. “I don’t know what to do.” He looks up at Sadaka woefully to realise she’s texting and frowns. “Who are you talking to that’s more important than my personal strife?”

“Nabulungi.”

Kevin looks up in horror. “You’re not telling her, are you?”

“Darling, she already knows,” Sadaka replies teasingly, before she looks up over her phone back to her friend. Something on Kevin’s face must have got to her, because she softens. “Well. She might suspect. She and Arnold.”

“How can they possibly suspect?” Kevin asks, and his voice has climbed an octave, his heart pounding. _“I_ didn’t even know, how could they possibly -”

“Kevin Price, will you take a deep breath and calm down?”

Kevin takes a deep breath, but has no intention of calming down.

Sadaka sighs. “You know who might be good to talk to?” she says.

“If you say Connor, I’ll -”

“Arnold,” Sadaka replies, breezing through Kevin’s qualms. “And perhaps Nabulungi, but definitely Arnold. He is your best friend, is he not?”

“You’ve got it wrong if you think that me and Arn talk about things like this,” Kevin tells her, although that’s kind of a lie. Kevin remembers when Arnold used to stay up late lamenting about his feelings for Nabulungi, waxing lyrical about how beautiful she was while Kevin made non-committal noises as he carried on trying to mark exercise books. Nowadays, of course, Kevin still tries to mark exercise books, but finds that Connor’s somewhat more distracting than Arnold, and oh God, if that’s not some kind of sign -

“Breadsticks,” the waiter says as he reappears at the table, and Kevin looks up, realising he’s not been paying attention again. “Tap water. Bowl for salad. Can I get you anything else?”

“That is perfect, thank you,” Sadaka replies with a smile, and Kevin tries his best to give the poor boy a look that is vaguely friendly, but he’s having a crisis here, and he doesn’t think that breadsticks are really gonna help. “I just think that it might be helpful to discuss this with a friend.”

Kevin gestures at Sadaka.

Sadaka rolls her eyes. _“Yes,_ I see that, but your _best_ friend. Arnold knows everything about you. You could discuss it. You could discuss his planning to get engaged,” she adds, pointing a breadstick at him. “That way it is not all about you, if that is what you are worried about.”

“Sadaka,” Kevin says, “have you met me? I’m _never_ worried about it being _all about me._ The first nineteen years of my existence, that was pretty much my life's ambition.”

Sadaka smiles. “I like it when you joke about yourself,” she tells him, and she sounds sort of earnest and sweet, and Kevin pouts some more. “Perhaps you are not as much of a lost cause as I thought.” She takes a bite out of another breadstick and pushes the bowl towards him. “Are you worried about being gay?”

“I’m not -” Kevin begins, but then Sadaka raises an eyebrow and Kevin realises the point she’s trying to make. “I don’t think I’m gay. I don’t know.” He’s never really been interested in anyone, except for one weird crush he’s always harboured for Ellen DeGeneres, although he has to admit that when Arnold first made him watch the Matrix, he’d been very fascinated by Keanu Reeves. He had a girlfriend for a bit when he first came back from his Mission, too, although he’s not really sure he ever had _feelings_ for her. But then again, he’s never had feelings for a guy before, Keanu Reeves excluded, if that’s what this is. “Maybe I’m bi,” he says, looking up at Sadaka, before he sighs. “Why am I even discussing this with you?”

“You do not have to discuss it with me,” Sadaka tells him gently, and Kevin shifts a little. He's not used to having these deeply personal conversations with anyone, excluding Arnold, and even then, that's not very often. The only person he's ever had a heart-to-heart with besides his best friend is, well, Connor. Sadaka might be a gossipmonger, but today she feels genuine, and she's not pushing him. He can feel that he's not misplacing his confidence. “You do not have to discuss anything with anyone. We can talk about something else if you would like.”

“No,” Kevin replies, twirling a breadstick between his fingers. “I just. I guess this is kinda big, really, isn’t it? I’ve got it bad for my roommate. That’s kinda… I don’t know. That’s kind of a breakthrough for me. Do you think I’d even have a shot?”

Sadaka smiles. “I think you would have more of a shot than you would expect.”

Kevin's not really sure what to think, but he can't deny the way his stomach flutters at the prospect. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on Tumblr! @kimbayskafe :)


End file.
